


Better Version of Me

by AllMadeofGlass



Series: No Man is an Island [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Courier is Lone Wanderer | Lone Wanderer is Courier, Drug Use, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Romantic Friendship, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-04 15:18:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 100,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14595873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllMadeofGlass/pseuds/AllMadeofGlass
Summary: Beth Evans traveled the Wasteland for the last several years, taking odd jobs, never staying in one place for too long.  Then she took the wrong courier job, the one that changed everything--and not just for her.  She finds herself slowly entangled in the increasingly high-stakes games of the Mojave.Will the personal stakes be more than she can handle?(Chapters 1-19 revised with new content as of 11/27/18)





	1. The Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pivotal meeting changes the course of two lives and ends another. The Courier finds that the cruelty of the Wasteland can still surprise her.

It was a cool, clear morning when Boone first laid eyes on the Courier, sitting on the steps of the Dino Dee-lite motel there in Novac. The sniper's shift had just ended and he passed Manny Vargas, the daytime sniper, without a word. Manny stopped trying to talk to his old friend months ago; Boone hadn't said much to anyone else in town, either. He wordlessly worked his night shift at watch, collected his caps, bought food from Cliff, and went back to his room until the sun went down. Until today.

“Morning,” the young woman greeted, taking a sip from a cup of coffee.

The sniper stopped and turned his head to look at her blankly. “What?”

“Good. Morning.” She gave a friendly smile for emphasis, brushing back her shoulder-length brown hair gently blowing in the morning breeze.

His brow furrowed. “What do you want?” It came out more hostile than he meant it to, his voice rough from lack of use.

Setting down the cup, she stood. “Just passing through. I'm Beth Evans with the Mojave Express. You get many visitors around here?” Her tone was friendly, but business-like.

Normally, he would have brushed off anyone who tried to talk to him, telling them he needed sleep, but something about her made him change course. As he stepped toward her, he eyed her with suspicion through his tinted aviators. “Yeah, but not like you.” He scoffed.

“Excuse me?”

He stepped closer to her. “Why are you here?” he demanded, again with more hostility than he intended. There was something out of place about her that drew him in with curiosity. Maybe it was her easy demeanor, the way she greeted him almost as though she knew him. Maybe it was the obviously jury-rigged gun holstered at her side. Maybe it was the Pip-Boy on her arm. Whatever it was, it made him torn between blowing her off or asking her for a favor. He settled on the former. “Just leave me alone.”

Her eyebrows drew together in confusion. “I'm just trying to be friendly.” Despite his clearly antagonistic demeanor and larger sized frame, she seemed calm and unintimidated, though her right hand hung loose at her side next to her weapon.

“I don't have friends here,” he said with disgust.

Stepping down from the stairs, she gave him a half smirk, and retorted, “I'm not from here.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, he thought on that for a moment, reconsidering. New in town and with an innocent-looking face, may be she was the perfect person to ask questions, find out information where he had failed to. “No. No, you're not, are you? Maybe you shouldn't go. Not just yet.”

“And why is that?” she responded with slight annoyance.

Cautiously, he glanced around to make certain no one was within earshot, then eyed her up and down. “I need someone I can trust. You're a stranger. That's a start. I need you to look into something for me.” Pausing to take a deep breath, he continued to scan the area for anyone who might be listening. Leaning in closer to her, he continued, "I don't know if there is anything to find, but I need someone to try. My wife was taken from our home by Legion slavers one night when I was on watch.” Had his eyes not been obscured by his sunglasses, she would have seen how bloodshot his eyes were, but the pain in his voice was something he couldn't hide. “They got in and out without me knowing, so someone had to tell them how to stay out of sight. They only took Carla.”

She backed up slightly as he drew closer. “You want me to help you track down your wife?”

Shaking his head angrily, he spat out, still keeping his voice low, “My wife's dead. I want the son of a bitch who sold her. I just don't know who it is.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Find the bastard and bring him out in front of the dinosaur while I'm on duty. I work nights. I'll give you my NCR beret. Put it on and it'll be our signal that you're standing with him. I'll take it from there.” Over the last thirteen months, he had run through dozens of scenarios of what he would do to the man and this one seemed like the best option, both poetic and discrete. Motherfucker wouldn't even see it coming. The bullet would be the last thing he'd never see.

Watching her face, she seemed to be considering his request carefully. After a moment, she nodded. “Okay, I'll help you.”

“Good. I'll make it worth your while.” Reaching up, he pulled the beret off his head and handed it to her. “Until this is over, we don't speak again. No one knows I know what happened to my wife. I'd like to keep it that way.”

Taking the beret from him, she nodded again and he turned around to walk to his room. “Wait. I didn't get your name.”

“Boone,” he responded, as he kept walking.

 

 

After she heard his door click shut, she sat down on the steps and let out a long breath.

When she had approached him, she had intended to ask him if he had seen a man in a checkered coat come through with some Khans, but he hadn't given her the chance. She was used to strangers opening up to her and asking for favors, but not like this. It felt like there was a stone on her chest and in the pit of her stomach. Having only met him moments before, she was profoundly compelled by his story.

Thoughts were racing through her mind. As a rule, Beth avoided anything to do with the Legion. She had no problem dispatching slavers, in fact she rather enjoyed it, but this wasn't just some band of chemed-up raiders looking to get off and turn a profit. The Legion was large, disciplined, and ruthless. And here in this nowhere place, they had been and they had taken an innocent woman from her home as her husband protected the town. The idea that someone here could have set that up and then had the gall to look this man in the face turned any fear in the pit of her stomach into anger.

 

 

It didn't take long to figure out that Carla didn't have many friends in town. None, really. For all her ability to charm Boone, she seemed to rub other people the wrong way. “ _Whatever,_ ” thought Beth. It wasn't her place to judge a dead woman she had never met and it wasn't like she could really blame Carla for hating it here. She had given up the glitz and safety of New Vegas for love and adventure; and this where she ended up: a town with its name taken from a broken pre-war motel sign. She felt like she would have understood Carla better than anyone. After all, she knew first-hand what it was like to leave the protective bubble of home and be thrust into a godforsaken wasteland full of dust and danger. At least Carla had someone there with her. It was hard to do it alone.

No, she couldn't blame Carla for wanting to go home, if she had one to go back to. Besides, the prissiest, most stuck-up bitch in the world didn't deserve what happened to her.

Even with the Courier's careful questioning, though, no one gave any indication that they knew anything. The ones with any opinion claimed to assume Carla had gotten fed up with Novac and taken off, possibly with another man.

The most likely suspect in her disappearance appeared to be Manny Vargas, the daytime sniper. Boone hadn't spoken to him since Carla disappeared, despite their prior close friendship. When Beth talked to him, he didn't mince words when it came to his opinion of his former friend's wife and he confirmed that they did argue shortly before she went missing. He went so far as to say, “When I heard the news, my first thought was that I owe somebody. Big,” which while highly suspicious, just wasn't enough to be sure it was him.

Him being on his daytime shift gave her the chance to search his room for anything incriminating. Inside, she found pretty sparse quarters, except for three extra mattresses on the floor, like he shared the room with several people. There was a terminal on the desk, on which she found a note from some friends of his, a group of Great Khans who accompanied some “weasel” named Benny who had stolen a package from a courier. It said they were on their way to Boulder City. “ _Shit,_ ” she thought, having neglected to ask Manny if he had seen a man in a checkered coat come though here, but this had to be him. Idly rubbing her forehead, the reminder of her personal quest intensifying her headache, she processed this new information. While his connection to the man who shot her did not endear her to him, she could find no actual evidence that he had anything to do with what happened to Carla. Beth wasn't about to sentence a man to death on the basis of just a hunch or her own bias. She didn't know Boone, but she did feel that he deserved real answers based on real evidence. Despite the reminder of her main objective, she had made a promise and she intended to keep it.

After speaking to nearly a dozen people, however, she still had no leads and it was getting frustrating. Or maybe Boone was wrong. He hadn't given a lot of details about what he actually knew, after all. Maybe Carla had run off and he convinced himself she was taken against her will out of denial. Perhaps she was back in Vegas, hanging off some other handsome soldier's arm. Yet, a feeling in Beth's gut told her that wasn't right, that there was really something here. Desperation made this man reach out and ask a total stranger for help. The need for answers clearly burned inside him. If he had made up some story to comfort himself, even subconsciously, he wouldn't have asked someone to find the truth. No, someone in this town knew something and she was going to find out who.

She leaned against the back wall of the motel with a sigh and considered what to do. The sun would be going down soon and she was no closer to finding answers.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone staggering towards her, an old man in ragged clothes. Speaking to him, she very quickly picked up that he wasn't “playing with a full Caravan deck,” as they say. Through all his muddled ramblings about chupacabras and commie ghosts, she did manage to piece together that he may have seen Carla taken that night. “Shadowy folk” had gone into the house and one of them went into the hotel lobby afterwards. Maybe it was just the delusional thoughts of a crazy old man who had one too many radscorpion stings to the head, but it was the only lead she had. Further investigation would have to wait until Jeannie May, the owner of the motel, closed up for the night, which should be soon.

The Courier went back to leaning against the wall, not wanting Boone to see her just standing around ideally when he came out to go to his post. The pain in her head was getting worse again. Pulling out a dose of med-x from her pocket that she had swiped from Manny's medicine cabinet, she made sure no one was around, then injected it into her arm. Breathing slowly as some of the pain subsided, she put the now empty syringe back in her pocket.

It wasn't long before she heard the click of a door opening and closing, then keys jingling. The old woman walked past, giving a nod and an “Evening,” as she walked away from the motel toward a nearby house. Once Beth figured the area was clear and Jennie May wouldn't be coming back, she snuck up to the lobby door, popping the lock in seconds with her lock picks and shutting the door behind her.

The room was dark, but switching on the lights would draw attention, so she clicked on her Pip-Boy's light and started to take a look around. She had no idea what she was even looking for. A diary maybe? Nothing in the papers on the desk, or the folders on the side table, or the file cabinets. Then she spotted something on the floor behind the desk: a safe. Beth liked safes and there hadn't been one for a long time that she hadn't been able to crack. This one was no exception. As expected, there was a small amount of money inside, a 9mm, and then, at the bottom, a note. “Bill of Sale. What the fuck?!” she gasped out loud. “A thousand caps for Carla and...oh, god.” She covered her mouth with her hand in shock. “Carla was pregnant and they fucking paid extra...oh, my god.” She didn't think there was much in this world that could still shock her, but _this_? Selling a pregnant woman to slavers for some fucking bottle caps.

But why was it in writing? Then the answer showed itself at the bottom: “ _Payment of an additional five hundred bottle caps will be due pending successful maturation of the fetus, the claim to which shall be guaranteed by possession of this document._ ” Beth's stomach twisted at the words.

She held the paper in her hand for a long minute, still crouched over the open safe, hands slightly trembling. “ _I can't give him this,_ ” she thought. It was too horrible, too disgusting. Did he even know his wife was pregnant? “ _He can't find out like this._ ”

One thing was certain: Jeannie May was going to have a sniper bullet in her head before the sun came up.

*  *  *  *  *

It had been remarkably easy to get the town's self-appointed mayor to the front of Dinky the Dinosaur. A knock on her door and “I need to show you something” was basically all it took. “ _Trusting old bitch,_ ” Beth thought. Most evil people assume that everyone else is just like them and thus they are suspicious. Not Jeannie May Crawford, though: she thought she was in the clear. Maybe she even thought what she did was somehow righteous. Beth resisted the urge to grab her by the throat and put a bullet in her head personally. This wasn't her revenge to take, however; hers would come later. Now was Boone's turn. It wouldn't bring his family back, but she hoped it would give him some peace.

The full moon was bright in the sky, having risen as the sun set, making the red cap easy to spot against the gray ground. Stepping back away from Jeannie May, she looked up to the sniper's nest in the dinosaur's mouth with a nod, but it was too dark inside to see anyone. A moment later, a suppressed shot rang out with a flash of fire and it was over. She stood there breathless for a moment, her heart beating loudly in her ears. Slowly, she made her way through the gate and into the dinosaur, up to the sniper's nest.

He turned to face her as she came in. “That's it, then. How did you know?”

Hesitantly, she pulled the carefully folded piece of paper out of her pocket. “I'm not sure you want to see this.”

Before she could say more, he snatched the paper out of her hands and opened it. His eyes studied the words closely, his expression tightening, reading it probably three times before crumpling it in his hands. “I guess I shouldn't be surprised. It'd be like them to keep paperwork,” he said bitterly. “Here. This is all I can give.” She pulled the beret off her head and handed it back to him as he pressed a bag of bottle caps into her hands. “I think our dealings are done here.”

She almost refused the payment, but thought better of it. While she didn't want his money, he was obviously a prideful man and she didn't want him to feel like a charity case. “What will you do now?” she inquired.

Shrugging, he replied, “I don't know. I'm not staying here. Don't see much point in anything right now, except hunting legionaries.” Taking a moment to study the Courier, he mused, “Maybe I'll wander, like you.”

Before she really had a chance to think about it, she offered, “Come with me. Let's go after the Legion.” Then she realized that she actually meant it.

The sniper shook his head and almost looked amused at the idea. “You don't want to do that.”

Clearly, he assumed she had no idea what she would be getting herself into, but he didn't know her. “I was thinking we could head to Nelson. Heard the Legion took it over recently. After, you can take off on your own whenever you want.”

“Hm...okay. But this isn't gonna end well.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Please let me know what you think. Subsequent chapters will be less canon-heavy.


	2. I've Been Everywhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The companions have their first encounter with the Legion and Beth refocuses her attention to the man who put two bullets in her head. Boone learns there's a lot more to his new traveling companion than he previously thought.

During her investigation, Beth had heard from some people in Novac that the Legion had taken over a nearby NCR settlement. Since it was so close, it seemed a pressing threat that couldn't wait.

They walked east down the dusty broken road and Boone stole covert glances at his new traveling companion. She wore minimal armor and a wide-brimmed hat that kept the sun off her somewhat pale, freckled face. Dark shades covered her eyes. From what he could tell, she probably hadn't been out of the vault for very long.

At some point soon, he felt he should caution her about being so trusting of strangers. She had asked him to come along with her, even though she barely knew him. Obviously, she was foolish, having offered to go after the Legion. Had she ever even killed anyone before?

“ _The Mojave is going to eat this girl alive unless someone is around to protect her,_ ” he thought to himself.

As they approached the town, Boone tapped the Courier's shoulder to get her attention. “We're getting close to Nelson. Any closer, I'm shooting any legionary I see,” he warned to give her the opportunity to turn around. “Is that a problem?”

Beth turned to look at him. “No, that's not a problem. That's a solution.”

“Guess you and I, we're just a couple of problem solvers.” Unexpectedly, she chuckled at his response. It had been a long time since someone laughed at something he said.

They came upon some NCR troopers guarding a barricade in the road. There, the companions were stopped by a Ranger Milo who informed them that some NCR soldiers had been taken prisoner by the Legion. He thought it was best if the captives were taken out from a distance before the rest of the troops stormed the town.

Boone disagreed.

To him, this plan seemed less like “mercy killing” and more like the easy way out, to make the NCR recruits less hesitant to attack the legionaries. As soon as they were out of earshot, he said to Beth, “I don't give a shit what he says. We're getting those guys out of there.”

She drew the handgun holstered at her side and nodded. “We'll have to be careful, though. The legionaries will be on their guard, waiting for the NCR to make a move.”

Together, they crept up on the settlement. From the hill looking over the town, they spied the three soldiers crucified up on a platform in the center, along with at least a score of the crimson-wearing bastards. The NCR soldiers all appeared to be alive. The sniper looked over at her with an eyebrow raised inquisitively and whispered, “You ready for this?” He had expected her to rethink the offer she made back in Novac once she actually saw the Legion and the whole thing became real.

“I'm ready,” she whispered back. Rather than seeming nervous, her face had a steely resolve and her hand was steady as it gripped her weapon.

Boone kept his distance on the hill, using his scope to pick off the enemy one by one. Instead of following suit or sitting by more passively, as he had anticipated, the Courier snuck in close. Making her way through buildings and debris, she kept behind cover and ambushed the enemy while they were distracted by the unseen sniper.

He focused on taking out the more heavily-armed targets first, shooting them between the eyes or in the back of the head. Suddenly, he heard an explosion and saw a legionary flying backward from behind one of the ruined buildings; his front and face were a unrecognizable mass of blood and charred skin. When he fell to the ground, he didn't get up again.

The sniper wasn't used to fighting like this, but he had to admit it was somewhat effective, although he did miss having a spotter. Surprisingly, the kid knew how to use a gun and seemed to have some familiarity with grenades, as well. Who the hell was this “courier,” anyway?

In the corner of his eye, he saw that Beth continued to navigate through the remains of the town. While she dashed between buildings, a legionary with a machete came up behind her. Screaming something Boone couldn't fully hear, he took a swing at her head. “ _Shit!_ ” the sniper thought as he readied his shot on the moving target. Luckily, she managed to move quickly enough to where the weapon only slashed her in the left arm, rather than injure her more seriously. Before the legionary could raise his hand again, Boone’s sniper bullet pierced the back of his skull and he dropped face-first into the dirt. She gave a quick nod and thumb's up of appreciation in her companion's direction. Then she reloaded her weapon and ducked behind some more ruins.

This was the beginning of his revenge on the legion, but while he would have expected to feel excited or elated, he didn't. Instead, he just felt empty. Was it because he knew there were thousands more out there and this wouldn't even put a dent in their forces? Was it because he knew this wouldn't bring Carla back? Or was he just incapable of feeling anything anymore except guilt and bitter anger?

Now that he thought about it, he hadn't really felt anything when he killed Jeannie May, either. No joy, or relief, or justice. It was just...over. He didn't even feel particularly shocked that it was her. Even reading the proof the Courier had given him only raised up cold disgust. It should have made him sick.

If it had been Manny she brought in front of the nest, would he have felt something then? He couldn't say.

 

When they had finished clearing out the Legion threat, they met up at the platform where the NCR soldiers were tied. The Courier wiped the sweat from her eyes. Blood from her wound soaked a spot in the sleeve of the brown cotton shirt she wore under her light protective vest.

“Hey, give me a boost,” she said to him, pulling out her knife sheathed at her side. Wrapping an arm around her legs, Boone lifted her to reach each of the captive troopers. She cut their bindings and he helped her ease them to the ground, one after the other. When they were safely freed and making their way back toward the barricade, she pulled out a stimpak from her back pocket and injected the medicine just above the wound in her arm. She took out another and injected it into her neck, which her companion found strange, since she didn't seem to have any other injuries.

Boone spoke up, “Good that you recognized we had options.” They started walking back to the barricade where they'd left their packs. “The Legion likes to torture their prisoners within sight of NCR positions. We snipers get called on to end it. Some of them, you think, maybe you could've gotten them out. Maybe it's not the Legion that got them killed. Maybe it's your orders and you following them.”

“Not today,” she responded.

He considered her words. “ _No. Not today._ ”

 

* * * * *

 

As they walked away from the town just before dawn the next morning, Beth turned to her companion. “Listen, Boone. I know I promised we would go after the Legion, and we will, but I have some pressing business I need to attend to.” Seeing the note on Manny's terminal had rekindled the fire for revenge in her. She had promised herself she was headed straight to Boulder City as soon as possible.

He looked skeptical and slightly annoyed. “What kind of 'business'?”

The Courier rubbed her forehead, the pain still persisting, despite the med-x she had taken only a couple of hours before. “Personal business. Someone stole my last delivery from me and I need to get it back. I got a lead on where he might be and if I don't go now, I might miss my chance.” She didn't really feel like explaining the whole thing right then. “I understand if you don't want to come along.”

At first, he seemed hesitant, but then he said, “You helped me out with my 'personal business', I guess it's only fair for me to do the same for you.”

She flashed an appreciative smile at him. “Thanks. And don't worry, the Legion will still be there in a few days.” As much as she wanted to help Boone take down more of the Legion, she didn't want to lose track of Benny. She couldn't give two shits about that Chip; what she really cared about was revenge.

 

* * * * *

 

Dusk was falling as they came upon an old abandoned gas station with a few bedrolls and a spot to build a fire. The companions took a quick look inside the building, but found that not only was there not enough space to sleep, it was also extraordinarily hot in there, so they were better off outside. Beth did manage to salvage some caps and an old 10mm she said she could use for parts.

Outside, she tossed her pack on one of the beds, puffing up a cloud of dust. She plopped down with a fatigued sigh and observed, “Well, it's not exactly the Ultra-Luxe, but it's better than anything else we're going to find before dark.” She stretched her back, seemingly relieved to have the heavy pack off. Boone didn't know how she managed to carry it for so long, since she seemed to stuff it full of almost anything salable. “You get the fire going. I'll see what we have for food,” she said as she switched on her Pip-Boy radio and tuned it to Mojave Music Radio, which was half-way through playing “Johnny Guitar.” After a moment of rummaging through her pack, she mused, “You think anyone has written any new music in the last 200 years?”

Boone dropped his own pack on another mattress and got to work on the fire. “I dunno. Probably.”

“Well, you'd never know it,” she replied, pursing her lips and switching off the radio, getting back to the task of finding dinner in her pack. “Almost makes me miss the howlings of Galaxy News Radio. At least it would be a change.”

“Where's Galaxy News Radio?”

“D.C. Capital Wasteland.”

“That home?” It never occurred to him that she could be from so far away. So few people were, long-distance travel being both difficult and often dangerous.

“Not anymore,” she replied in a flat tone that didn't invite follow-up questions. Pulling two fresh pears out of her pack, she handed one to Boone and set the other in her lap. She then set a bottle of purified water next to him.

“Thanks.” He was able to light the existing wood in the pit easily with his lighter and the fire burned warm and bright.

What could have motivated her to somehow make her way the thousands of miles to where they now were? It was none of his business, he figured. He was far from home, too, although not as far. The NCR army had brought him out here. There wasn't really anything for him to go back to, which is why it had been so easy for Manny to convince him to settle in Novac after his tour of duty was up. Yet he often wondered what would have happened if he had taken Carla back to California instead. Could they have been happy there? He scratched his forehead, trying to dislodge the thought before he got too lost in it.

“Where'd you learn to shoot like that?” he asked, attempting to distract himself. “You serve?”

Shaking her head as she swallowed a bite of pear, she said, “Nah, nothing like that.” She shrugged. “Out in the Wastes, you either learn or you die.” Pulling out a box of Cram, she tossed it to him, which he caught with a nod, then she pulled out a package of BlamCo Mac and Cheese for herself.

Boone had to admit that he had underestimated the Courier. Taking one look at her fresh freckled face, bright blue eyes, and Pip-Boy on her arm, he figured she was just a “vault brat,” as they called them in the NCR army. He assumed she was some naive delivery girl who had no business out in the Wasteland, a kid who thought hunting down legionaries was going to be a fun adventure, but it hadn't taken long before she showed him there was more to her than it seemed.

She wasn't a “kid,” for one thing; he had originally thought she was somewhere around 20, but now saw that she was probably closer to 30. Savvy and aware of her surroundings, she had clearly spent a fair amount of time surviving in the Wasteland. While not much of a spotter, she had especially impressed him with her skill with a firearm.

Cutting off a brown piece of the pear with her knife and discarding it, she asked, “What outfit did you serve in the military with?”

“First NCR Recon, sniper battalion. They pick you out if you do well at the firing range. Pays a little better, so I said okay.”

“That a First Recon beret, then?” She gestured to the cap on his head.

“Yeah. You can tell by the patch. Bear skull with crossed rifles behind it. Slogan behind it.”

“What's the slogan?” she asked with her mouth full of pear.

“'Last Thing You Never See.'”

She smirked at the phrase. “Nice.” Suddenly, she winced sharply and her face contorted in pain.

“You okay?” he asked.

Her eyes squeezed shut. “Yeah...I'm fine. Just...tired. I'm fine.”

It was clear that she wasn't fine, but didn't press the issue. She obviously wanted to keep her pain to herself, which was fine with him. He would have done the same. “I'll take first watch, then.”

“Thanks.” After a few minutes, her pained expression started to relax.

“So, you gonna tell me who it is you're looking for?” Normally, he wouldn't inquire into someone else's personal business, but since he was going to be along for it, he figured he should know.

Her jaw clenched. “His name's Benny, apparently. I was making a delivery to New Vegas and he and some Khans thought the package I was carrying was worth killing someone over.”

“Who'd they kill?” he asked, cutting into his pear.

“Me!” she spat, but then gave a light laugh at Boone's obviously confused expression. “Fucker shot me twice in the head.” Pulling back her bangs, she indicated the fresh pink scars above her right eyebrow with her finger. There was also an incision scar along her hairline that ran from the middle of her forehead to her ear.

“Shit,” he breathed. This explained some things, but he didn't comment on it.

The fury in her eyes burned. “I intend to return the favor.”

 

 


	3. Life Turned Her That Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit to Boulder City gives Beth a lead on Benny.

The sand was rough against her cheek and she could feel a soft breeze blowing in her face. Her mouth was dry and sticky, with a faint bitter taste in the back of her throat. The thick smell of cigarette smoke, dust, and men's cologne filled her nostrils. As she opened her eyes, she could see the glowing lights of New Vegas in the distance, brighter than the moon hanging in the darkened sky. Several figures stood around her, their shadows long in the light of the lantern sitting on the ground and she heard a sharp rustling.

The last things she remembered was stopping for a meal in Goodsprings, but it was still light out then. Still groggy, her head swam as she tried to push herself up, but her hands were tied behind her back.

One of the figures spoke aggressively, “You got what you were after, so pay up!” For a second, she thought he was talking to her.

“Job's not over yet, pally,” came another voice, dismissive and smarmy.

She struggled against the ropes tying her wrists, but the bindings were too tight to slip out of.

Then a third man spoke, “Guess who's finally wakin' up?” He nudged her leg with his boot.

“Time to cash out,” said the second man casually, throwing down a cigarette and grinding it into the ground. He wore a black and white checkered suit jacket with gray pants, his hair dark and slicked back. She had never seen him before.

As he approached her, the first man piped up, “Will you get it over with?”

“Maybe Khans kill people without lookin' em in the face, but I ain't a fink, dig?”

“ _Kill?_ ” she thought, still not fully comprehending the situation.

He pulled something out from his jacket she could barely see, since it was dark and her vision was still a bit blurry. A small coin? “You made your last delivery, girly. Sorry, you got mixed up in all this. It's nothing personal. Just business.” Despite his words, his tone did not sound regretful.

She struggled to push herself upright, not easy with her hands tied, as she was still shaking off whatever they drugged her with. Managing to get up on her knees with much effort, she spat some dirt out of her mouth and flipped her head to get her loose hair out of her face. “No, wait...don't...” she begged weakly, trying to work one of her wrists out of the ropes. Then she saw that the rustling sound she heard was one of the men digging a grave. “ _This is a fucking graveyard._ ” A sharp panic gripped her as the reality of her situation became even more apparent, but her instincts and training were failing her in her drugged state. “You don't...you don't have to do this....”

As he put the coin back in his jacket, he pulled out a gun. “From where you're kneeling it must seem like an 18 karat run of bad luck,” he said glibly.

“Please...I—”

Pointing the gun directly at her face, he shook his head, not acknowledging her pleas. “Truth is...the game was rigged from the start.”

“ _Charon would be so disappointed in me._ ”

The gunshots didn't have a chance to register in her ears before she was lying back on the desert floor, dead to the world.

 

* * * * *

 

Beth and Boone set out the next morning from their camp at the gas station just as the sun's light started to appear over the hills. He had let her sleep a couple of hours past when they agreed to change shifts, much to her annoyance. She didn't appreciate special treatment. It felt too much like pity, which was why she didn't want to let on how much pain she was in. It was none of his business anyway. They probably wouldn't be traveling together for long, but maybe after Benny was dead, she'd still have some time left to help him with his revenge before she succumbed to her injury.

Right now, she just needed to keep going.

While it lasted, she was grateful for the company, even if he didn't talk much. After having given up guarding caravans for work as a lone courier, it had been a while since she had traveled with another person. Boone was quiet and stone-faced most of the time, which she understood, since he clearly had a lot on his mind. She had traveled with people even quieter than he was, so she felt no need to press him to talk.

His NCR training made the duo a formidable force in the Wasteland, a fact she took comfort in. Having a companion who couldn't defend themselves was worse than having no companion at all.

 

They reached Boulder City just after noon. There wasn't much reason for anyone to visit except to see the war memorial or to pass through to and from the Dam, so Beth hadn't been here before. After the Battle for Hoover Dam several years ago, it seemed the saloon was the only building still left in town that the NCR hadn't blown to bits in its Legion trap. She looked around at the rubble and thought momentarily about Joshua: this had been the site of his failure. She, however, was determined not to fail.

Her head throbbed. Tempted to take another injection of med-x, she stopped herself, knowing she'd had too much already. There were a few doses of fixer in her bag, but she still didn't want to risk addiction any more than she had to. Besides, she didn't know what was going to happen next. If she was going to get her chance at Benny, she wanted to keep her senses sharp.

Next to a gate up ahead sat an NCR soldier at a table, speaking into a ham radio. At their approach, he stood and introduced himself as Lieutenant Monroe. He told her and Boone that they were having a problem: a group of Great Khans had attacked some NCR troops and there was now a hostage situation.

“ _The NCR seems to have a knack for getting themselves taken prisoner,_ ” Beth thought.

“Those Khans may have something of mine,” she informed him. “I need to get in there.”

“Once they've been killed or captured, you're welcome to retrieve your property,” the Lieutenant responded, crossing his arms over his chest.

Beth sighed. “I don't have time to wait. Maybe I could help you out with negotiations.” Boone glanced at her incredulously, but she ignored him.

The Lieutenant seemed reluctant, but then he relented with a sigh. “Normally, I'd turn you down, since I have no idea who you are, but frankly, we're in kind of a desperate situation here. If we go in there, the hostages are as good as dead. Maybe you'll have a chance.”

“Thanks. I'll do my best to get your people out safely.”

“You'll want to talk to their leader, a guy named Jessup. So you know, if there's trouble, you'll probably be dead before we can get in there,” he said, apologetically.

She nodded in thanks. “I understand.”

“Good luck.”

As she walked toward the gate, Boone stopped her. “You're really going in there?”

“Yeah. I don't have a lot of other options.” She was aware she was being reckless, but if Benny was in there or if the Khans knew where he was, nothing was going to stop her from going in.

“The Khans are dangerous.”

“ _So am I,”_ she thought, but to him, she replied, “I get that, believe me. But if they want out of there as much as those hostages do, they'll listen.”

Still appearing unconvinced, he gestured for her to lead the way and they proceeded through the gate. Inside, half a dozen NCR soldiers held their weapons ready as they crouched down behind cover, waiting for the Khans to make a move or for their superiors to give further orders. Cautiously, the companions walked up to an old storefront, which seemed to be the only building left somewhat intact in the gated-off area. That had to be where the Khans were hiding out.

Boone stopped her again, saying, “I think I better wait out here.”

“Why?” It seemed to her that he would have wanted to help free some fellow NCR soldiers.

“Let's just say that things will go better if I'm not in there with you. If I hear shooting or shouting, I'll bust in there, alright?”

Figuring that whatever there was between Boone and the Khans was his business, she shrugged. “If you say so.” She assumed it had something to do with what Manny Vargas said about Bitter Springs, although he hadn't given many details. “Wait here. I shouldn't be long.” Leaving the sniper behind, she proceeded into the old store.

 

 

“What the fuck?” the man with a mohawk behind the counter exclaimed breathlessly. “You're that courier Benny wasted back in Goodsprings. You're supposed to be dead.” She recognized his voice from that night in the graveyard. A gray haired man with a mustache stood behind him, also looking shocked. They both wore matching cut-off vests over t-shirts. Neither of them looked familiar, since she hadn't gotten a good look at any of them except Benny. He she remembered very clearly.

With a searing glare, she addressed the man, “I got better. You're Jessup, I presume?” He nodded and his associate watched silently. “I believe you have something of mine.”

The Khans' demeanor seemed agitated, both of them fidgeting, but she wasn't sure if that was due to their situation with the NCR or to her having risen from the grave. Or maybe they were so full of jet and psycho, they couldn't be still. “I don't have it. Benny stole it.”

“Where is he?” she demanded.

“I dunno. He's one of those fancy-ass Chairmen at the Tops. He's probably back at the Strip, laughing at me.”

“Well, I'm certainly not laughing.” She sneered at him. “I came here for answers. Why did Benny double-cross you?”

“Because he's a snake, that's why! He owed us the rest of the caps for the job and didn't want to pay up.”

“Guess I'm not the only one who took the wrong job. Was killing me always part of the plan?”  
Jessup paused and eyed her hand that was ghosting over her weapon. “Maybe. He didn't exactly fill us in on all the details.”

Her eyes narrowed. “None of you objected, though. Were you the one who dug my grave or was it you who told Benny to hurry up and 'get it over with'?” He looked increasingly nervous and started to reach for his gun, so she relaxed and smiled. “But you were just doing a job, right? It was nothing personal.”

“Right, nothing personal.” The other Khan nodded along with him.

“Benny's the one I want and since you told me where to find him, I'm feeling generous.” To appear casual, she leaned against the dingy counter, but kept her hand ready to draw her weapon, should she need to. “Let's talk about your situation with the NCR.”

The older Khan spoke up, “What's to talk about? They back off and we get the hell out of here. Nobody gets hurt.”

Taking a moment to consider his point, she offered, “How about this: release the hostages and I'll have the NCR escort you out of their territory.”

“Yeah, right. Then the second we poke our heads out, the closest sniper blows our heads off.”

Snipers work more from a distance, she knew, but that observation wouldn't to help the situation. “Listen, this whole thing has gone on long enough. You're tired. They're tired. Both parties just want to go home. There's no need for anyone else to die. You’ll earn a lot of good will by making the first move toward resolving this peacefully.”

Jessup turned and whispered something to the other man, who then whispered something back. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but clearly they were considering her proposal.

“Besides, the Lieutenant in charge owes me a favor,” she lied.

They whispered a few more sentences to each other, then Jessup turned back to her and nodded reluctantly. “I can't believe I'm doing this. Fine. We'll free the hostages. Here.” He tossed something to her and she caught it in the air. “It's Benny's lighter. Shove it up his ass when you see him.”

“Gladly,” she said with a bright smile.

 

 

The sniper felt guilty for letting the Courier walk into a dangerous situation without backup. However, he knew that having an NCR soldier along, especially one from First Recon, would have only made the situation worse. Maybe he owed her more of an explanation, but having only met this person a few days ago, he wasn't about to go into his history concerning the Great Khans. In fact, he had no intention of _ever_ talking about it, with her or anyone else.

Much to his relief, after a few minutes, she came out unscathed. “Up for a trip to Vegas?” she asked him, flicking a lighter in her hand.

“Why Vegas?”

“That's where Benny is. Turns out he's some big-shot at one of the casinos.” She rolled her eyes.

They watched as the two freed NCR hostages jogged back to the gate. “How did you manage to convince the Khans to let these guys go?” he asked as they followed them out.

“I can be very persuasive. Told them that if they let the hostages go, they could leave unharmed.”

“Shouldn't you have run that by the lieutenant?” She'd been authorized to talk to the Khans, but that didn't mean she could make whatever deal she wanted. Who was she to speak for the NCR?

She didn't respond.

 

Outside, Beth addressed Lieutenant Monroe, “Is that everyone?”

With a nod, he confirmed, “Yeah, all present and accounted for. You have my thanks for getting my people freed, but it's not over. I just got orders to take out the Great Khans, hostages or not.”

Beth shrugged with an indifferent expression on her face. “You have your orders. Do what you have to.”

Boone fidgeted uncomfortably. “Is that really necessary?” he asked. Wasn't she going to mention the agreement she made?

With a furrowed brow, she looked up at him. “Not only did they hold those soldiers hostage, they also helped Benny try to kill me. One of them dug my fucking grave. Whatever happens to them, my conscience is clear. If yours isn't, feel free to step in.” Turning away from him, she nodded to the Lieutenant and walked westward.

The sniper and Monroe stared at each other for a moment before Boone followed after her. His conscience was far from clear when it came to the Great Khans, but orders were orders.

 


	4. Yesterday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ominous forecasts make it clear that there is more at stake on this journey than just revenge. Beth gets a reminder of home. Against his better judgment, Boone begins to open up more to his companion.

In late afternoon, Beth and Boone made a stop at the 188 Trading Post to grab some food and rest before their continued push on to New Vegas. The towering skyline of the city looked close, but was actually at least a half a day's walk from here. Daylight was fading and most of the traders were starting to pack up for the day. No more caravans would be passing through until the next morning.

As the companions walked along, several of the traders greeted her with familiarity.

“Hi, Michelle,” she replied to one. “Good to see you.”

“You too,” the young woman said as she wiped down the bar with an old rag. “Hey, you know about that courier getting shot in Goodsprings? It's all over the radio.”

“Yeah, I know about it.” She raked her bangs back with her fingers to show the scars.

The woman's eyes went wide and she stopped wiping the counter. “Holy shit! You okay?”

Smoothing the hair back, she shrugged. “More or less.”

“Gotta say, you're tougher than you look.”

Boone let out small grunt of agreement.

The Courier glanced at him, then back to Michelle. “I guess. Anyway, is Veronica around?” she asked, wanting to change the subject.

“You just missed her. She was by this morning. Should be back in a few days.”

“Thanks. Say hi to her for me when you see her.”

"Will do."

Continuing over the bridge, Beth directed Boone toward one particular trader, a fellow discharged NCR soldier, who she knew would have a good supply of ammo for a decent price. “Maybe that beret of yours will get you a discount,” she observed.

“Doubt it.”

“Whatever. Hey, you get what we need.” She tossed him a bag of caps. “I need to go talk to someone about getting...something.”

“Fine.”

Heading down the hill, passing the Gun Runners with a nod, she made her way under the bridge. “Clay?” she called out to a boy sitting on the ground wearing a scout uniform.

His head popped up from a book on his lap and he smiled broadly. “Lizzy!”

She shook her head with a grin and walked over to sit on the ground next to him. “You know, you're the only one I let call me that. And that's only because you won't stop.”

“Did you bring me any thoughts?” he asked. She knew he was referring to the books and magazines she would bring him when she would pass through.

Suddenly, she felt terrible. She hadn't. She had been on such a singular mission. “No, sorry, kid. I forgot.”

“Too many thoughts?” he asked, sympathetically, pointing to her head.

With a grimace, she nodded and rubbed her throbbing head. “Yeah...too many thoughts.” Not usually one to believe in the supernatural, she had to admit there was something about this kid. Some of what he knew could be explained away as perceptiveness, but not all of it. Her father had been the last person to call her “Lizzy” and that was almost ten years ago. Yet, she hadn't given this kid _any_ name when they met and it was as if he pulled that one out of her mind somehow. Had it been anyone else, it would have upset her. She had a particular soft spot for the orphans of the Wasteland, however, of which there were far too many. Clay seemed to be doing pretty well for himself, though. The traders of the 188 made sure to look out for him, which was a comfort to her.

“That's okay. A trader came a few weeks ago with a book about Utah. It's got pictures and everything. Zion's just like you said.” He beamed with excitement. “I can't wait until you take me there someday, you know, when I'm old enough.”

“Yeah.” The reminder of the promise made her heart ache. It seemed so remote now. “Hey, I wanted to ask you about your 'medicine.' Where did you get it? I could really use one.”

He patted the red metallic device on his head. “I don't remember. Maybe I always had it.” Looking at her sadly, he added, “I wish I could let you have this one, but it hurts real bad when I don't wear it.”

“I know, Clay. Don't worry about me, I'll be alright.” She gave him a reassuring smile.

“You haven't been around in a while. Whatcha been up to? Got any good stories?”

Reaching up to her forehead again, she made sure her hair was still covering her scars. That was one story he didn't need to hear. “Well, I made a new friend. He and I have been traveling together.”

His eyes brightened with earnest interest. “Tell me about him.”

“He doesn't really talk much, so I don't know a lot about him,” she started. Some people might assume that Boone's quiet nature reflected a simple, unfeeling interior, but she could tell that wasn't the case. “We met in Novac.”  
“That's the place with the big dinosaur, right?”

“Yes, that's it. Um...he used to be in the NCR army as a sniper, so he's really good with a rifle.” She continued on, “He lost his wife, whom he loved very much, and it's been really hard for him. She was taken away by some very bad people. I think that's what makes him quiet.”

Clay nodded with sympathetic understanding.

“So, right now, he's helping me finish up my last delivery and otherwise, we're working on stopping the bad people.”

“Do you think he'd like a thought?” he asked helpfully.

She shook her head with a sad smile. “No, I think he has enough thoughts already. But I wouldn't mind one.” Reaching in her pack, she pulled out the bag of caps Boone had given her as payment back in Novac and set them on the ground between them. “Alright, kid. Tell me about 'everywhere.'”

Taking off the device, he stared into the middle-distance with blank eyes. “Bull and Bear over the Dam, at each other's throats...but a light from Vegas? Ball spinning on the wheel, more than two at the table. Placing bets. All lose in different ways. A dam of corpses, towns of corpses, scattered across the sand. But whose in what shares? Even the dealer doesn't know. Forecast: A rain of blood will flood the desert and not purify it.”

She was taken aback. Towns of corpses? Rain of blood? This was much more dire than his previous “forecasts.” Carefully, she reached out and helped him put the device back on, his eyes returning to focus. He didn't know what he had just said. It was better that way.

He scrunched up his nose. “Bleh. Thinking about 'everywhere' always makes me a little sick.”

“Sorry, Clay. Thanks for the 'thought,' though. I'll try and stop by again soon with some other people's 'thoughts,' okay?” She reached out and gave him a hug before standing up.

“Be careful, Lizzy.”

The caring words struck her to her core and she turned away so he couldn't see the tears suddenly welling up in her eyes. “I will,” she responded, trying to keep her voice strong.

When she was out of sight, she quickly wiped away the tears before anyone saw them. From her pack, she pulled out a syringe of med-x. “ _I guess this 'medicine' will have to do_ ,” she thought, injecting it into her arm. After a moment, the searing throb in her head started to subside into a dull ache, a welcome relief, even if it wouldn't last. Closing her eyes, she stood there for a minute to enjoy a moment of peace before hoisting her pack up and returning to the upper part of the trading post.

Beth found Boone sitting on the ground alone, leaning against one of the rusty campers. He had two bowls of some kind of stew, one half eaten in his hands, the other on the ground waiting for her. “Hey,” she greeted, dumping her pack down next to him and sitting beside it.

“You were gone a while,” he observed. “Get what you needed?”

“No, but it's okay. He needs it more than I do.” Despite how vague her response was, she knew he wouldn't press it. She picked up the bowl and took a bite. Generous chunks of tender brahmin mingled with carrots and potatoes in a thick gravy. “Not bad.”

“Yeah, not bad,” he responded, taking another bite of stew.

The pair finished their dinner in peaceful silence as the sun set behind the hills, the air becoming noticeably cooler. Afterwards, they sat around a campfire with some of the traders, swapping stories and whiskey, though Beth passed on the latter. They had been especially interested in hearing the Courier's tale of how she escaped death at the hands of some New Vegas thug, but she wasn't in the mood to share more than the bare details.

She always got quiet and contemplative after she spoke with Clay; it was his “thoughts” and the way he made her think about home. “ _Be careful, Lizzy. I'm proud of you._ ” had been the last words her father said to her before all hell broke loose. It was hard to remember his face, but thanks to the holotapes he had left behind, she still knew the sound of his voice. Though it had been a long time since she had listened to them.

Taking a deep breath, she stood up, telling her companion quietly that she was heading to bed. “Yeah, I'll be there in a bit,” he responded and she headed up to the old camper with the spare mattresses.

 

 

Not wanting to be alone with a bunch of strangers who might try to make conversation with him, Boone excused himself and decided to take a walk. He hadn't had many moments alone for a little while now and it was good to take a break. The lower part of the trading post seemed less active, so he he ventured down there.

Under the bridge, he could see a light and he heard paper rustling. As he walked closer, he saw a young boy reading a book by a lantern.

Hearing the sniper's boots on the gravely ground, the boy looked up. “Hello.” He put down his book and studied the sniper's face with a friendly expression. “Are you Lizzy's friend?”

Boone shook his head. “No, I don't know any 'Lizzy.'”

“Oh, I thought you were him.” He paused and then shrugged. “Did you want to buy a 'thought'?”

“A 'thought'?”

The boy nodded. “I can take off my medicine and do some thinking. Folks say it's real interesting. I don't know 'cause I never hear it. Some say that it's a gift. Others say it's the kind of thinking anyone could do if they watched more than they talked.”

Boone liked that sentiment. Most people talked far too much, in his opinion, and didn't do enough watching or thinking. “How much?”

“100 caps. I can tell you about 'you,' 'here,' or 'everywhere.'”

Although he was skeptical, he agreed and pulled out the money. “Fine, you choose.” The price seemed steep, but something made him want to know more. Besides, the kid probably needed the money more than he did, since caps flowed much more freely while traveling with the Courier than he was previously used to.

“Okay, I'll think about you,” he said decisively. The boy took off the device on his head and stared into Boone's face so intensely, he was almost looking through him. “You show the Bull red, but they don't see. One shot kills two. Through the canyon of death – you run from a debt of ghosts and blood, you are sure it will catch you... To move forward, go backward. Trust the stranger who is not a stranger. Bear or girl, which will you choose? Forecast: Remorseful with a chance of a broken heart.”

Boone blinked slowly as the boy put his device back on his head and brought his eyes back into focus. Handing over the caps, he stood and started to walk away, not sure how to process these “thoughts.”

“Take care of Lizzy, okay?” the boy called after him.

He was about to say again that he didn't know any “Lizzy,” but figured it was pointless to argue, so he nodded and walked back up the hill. When he returned to the upper part of the trading post, he saw that the camp had fallen silent in his absence with only a couple of guards still awake, keeping watch.

Across the bridge, he found Beth asleep on a mattress inside an old camper. He sat down on the unoccupied mattress, quietly putting down his pack and rifle so as not to wake her.

Feeling too unnerved by what he had just heard, he didn't feel like sleeping. Boone had a firm belief that there was something out there, some force or presence, that cared about right and wrong, good and evil. That thing was coming for him to settle his debt. If he saw it, part of him wouldn't want to fight back--maybe it would even be a relief. But he knew it wouldn't be that easy. If it just wanted him dead, he'd be dead. No, it wanted him to suffer, to take everything away from him before it killed him.

Looking over at the Courier, he seriously questioned whether continuing to travel with her was a good idea. When he first agreed to come along with her, he figured that he would protect her until she soon realized traversing the Wasteland hunting down the Legion was foolish and he'd drop her off somewhere safe. He also thought she'd be upbeat and annoying to match her young freckled face, so he'd be glad to be rid of her. That didn't happen. Instead, he found a capable traveling companion who didn't get on his nerves. By contrast to most people, she actually made him want to talk sometimes, largely due to her not being pushy about it, never commenting about how quiet he was.

There was potential for real friendship here and that was frightening. Even after knowing her for only a short time, he felt he was getting too used to being around her. If they parted ways, he would miss her, at least for a little while. No, traveling was fine, but he needed to keep his distance. That was safer for both of them.

 

A couple of hours later, Boone was still sitting up thinking. In his hands, he held the photograph taken of him and Carla on their wedding day. Even though the picture was in black and white, he could still remember the colors. She was in her pale blue dress, cut just above the knee to show off her shapely legs, which were further accentuated by her dark blue high heels. A flow of light blonde hair fell over her shoulders in soft curls and a small white veil covered her forehead. That genuine smile of hers stretched her pink painted lips and brightened her dark brown eyes. Standing next to her, he wore his freshly pressed tan NCR army uniform and was also smiling broadly. He didn't think he was capable of smiling like that anymore, like the muscles were atrophied. A lock of dark brown hair peeked out from under his red First Recon beret and his green eyes were clear.

All that color was gone now.

As much as he stared at it, this happy image would not replace the one that was there when he closed his eyes, the one of the last time he saw her.

The sound of his companion stirring and mumbling in her sleep diverted his attention. He couldn't make out any clear words, but he could see her eyes moving rapidly, her breathing shaky, and her face damp with sweat.

As he watched her sleep restlessly, he wondered if she was all right and if he should wake her. Then he glanced down at her pack and saw something poking out, the top of what looked like a small syringe with the plunger pushed down. It hadn't been the first time. He had also seen the pain in her face at times when she thought he wasn't looking, or when she couldn't help it, and he wondered how severe it was. Getting shot in the head had to leave some residual effects. When he would ask her if she was okay, she always said that she was fine. Figuring that talking about it wouldn't make it go away and since neither the pain nor the chems seemed to be affecting her mentally, he let her be.

Suddenly, she woke with a gasp like she'd been underwater for too long, looking around, unsure of where she was for a moment. Seeing Boone sitting there, she seemed to relax slightly, reassured that whatever danger she was just in had passed.

It was still dark, the streetlamp lightly illuminating the road outside. Beth sat up and leaned against the wall of the camper, holding her knees to her chest, trying to calm herself with controlled breaths. The sniper couldn't count the number of times he had woken up like that, but he didn't have any words to help. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to her. “Small sips.”

She took it with a nod, wiping the sweat from her face, her breathing starting to return to normal. Taking a sip of water, she looked over at her companion and the photograph in his hand. She watched him for a couple of minutes before clearing her throat softly, asking, “That Carla?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I see?”

Hesitantly, he handed it to her and she looked at it for a long moment. “She's really beautiful,” Beth said, handing the picture back to him.

“Yeah. She was.”

“Tell me about her.”

He sighed. “I was on leave at the Strip. She came up to me and said I looked lost.” The corner of his mouth twitched like it was trying to form a smile. “She talked a lot. About all kinds of things. Suited me fine.” He shrugged. “I never know what to say and she didn't seem to mind. Listening to her, it could...make you forget. Like there was nothing else except her.” Looking at the photograph again, he lightly rubbed the edge with his finger. “I never met anyone like her.”

Beth smiled at him sadly.

An uneasy silence hung in the air for several long minutes before she asked, “Are you going to tell me what happened to her?”

His eyes snapped up from the picture and stared at her, his breath quickening in anger at her overstep. “Are you gonna tell me what your nightmare was about?” he asked coldly, not expecting an answer.

Staring back at him, she swallowed another sip of water. “No.”

“Didn't think so.”

She lay back down on the mattress with her back to him. “Goodnight.”

“Right.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, I wanted to explore more what it would be like for the Courier if she had been traveling around the Mojave for a while instead of being a blank slate. 
> 
> I'd love feedback on this or on the rest of the work.


	5. Return to Sender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tension seeps into Beth and Boone's companionship. Beth calls in a favor. With time to kill, she helps out one of the Followers.

Leaving early in the morning from the 188, Beth and Boone continued on toward New Vegas. Whereas the silence between them had previously been a content one, the end of their conversation the night before now made it tense. Instead of walking next to her, he trailed along behind. They had hardly even looked at each other all morning.

She was aware she had crossed an unspoken boundary, which had caused him to bite back with his own boundary-breaking question. If her dream had been one about leaving the vault or being ambushed by raiders, maybe him asking wouldn't have been so upsetting. Maybe she could have even told him about it. It had been one of the worst ones, though, one she could never let herself acknowledge out loud.

There had been little to be afraid of growing up in the vault, although she hadn't realized it at the time. Only outside did real fear exist. Only outside was her greatest fear developed: watching the person she loved most in the world die and being helpless do do anything about it. With practiced discipline, she could bury the memory deep when she was awake, but it still came to her in dreams.

No, not dreams. Nightmares.

There, the scene played out over and over again. Dad collapsed in unimaginable agony from the massive amount of radiation he purposefully unleashed. Her hands banged against the warming glass of the chamber and her fingers clawed at the door, desperately trying to open it to save him. The Geiger counter on her Pip-Boy ticked louder and faster. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks and she could taste bitter metal in the back of her throat. The dank, rusty air from the dirty water mixed with iron had the stench of blood.

“Run,” he said in a weakened voice. “Run!”

Large ghoulified hands grabbed her upper arms to protectively drag her away. Through her tears, she looked into her father's deep blue eyes and begged for it all to stop.

All of it flooded into her thoughts so suddenly, she hadn't realized it until she felt the tears begin trickle down her cheeks. “ _Put it away!_ ” she scolded herself silently, grateful that Boone was behind her and couldn't see.

Containing these dark thoughts was usually automatic, but since that night in Goodsprings, it had become increasingly difficult. It was more than the pain and the med-x, she knew. Those bullets had damaged some part of her brain that kept everything where it was supposed to be. Clay had also broken down more of her defenses, however unintentionally. A painful twinge gripped her insides at the thought that it was probably the last time he would see her and he'd never know what happened. 

“ _Stop it!_ ” Beth growled to herself internally. She had to regain control of her thoughts or she was going to break down--she would not let her companion see that.

“ _Focus! Get to Benny. Focus on Benny._ ”

 

As they walked, the heavy silence between her and Boone grated on her. It was distracting. She abruptly stopped and turned around to face him. “I'm sorry, okay?” she said. It came out more frustrated than remorseful.

“Okay,” he said, flatly.

“I won't ask any more personal questions. You want to talk, it's up to you.”

“Okay.”

She grunted in annoyance at his repeated one-word replies. “If you don't want to travel with me anymore...”

“I didn't say that,” he responded in a softer tone. “If you don't want me to...”

“I didn't say that.” They stared at each other for a long minute before she turned around and kept walking. He followed behind again, but a little closer than before.

* * * * *

Boone had passed through Freeside many times on his way between Camp Golf and the Strip, but had always gotten through as quickly as possible, particularly when Carla was with him. The junkies looking to knife unsuspecting tourists for their caps didn't exactly make the place inviting. Beth, on the other hand, walked through like she had lived here all her life. Or did she always walk like that?

Suddenly, she dropped her pack and started rummaging through it. “Fuck!” she spat, rubbing her forehead with a wince.

“What?”

“Benny must have taken my passport. Bastard probably altered it so he could get back onto the Strip without anyone knowing about it.” She stood back up and hoisted her pack. “You still got your NCR passport?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Expired. I guess we need 4,000 caps, if you still want me to come along.”

She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “Actually, I know someone who owes me a favor.”

Up the street, she strolled into the King's School of Impersonation with Boone hesitantly trailing behind her. Inside, there were several men dressed in jeans and white t-shirts, with their dark hair slicked back. He had always wondered why they dressed like that, so unlike any other tribe or gang he'd seen before. There was something strangely old-world about the whole set up.

As Beth headed into the next room, one of the men stopped her before she could go through the door. He wore a black leather jacket and entirely too much cologne. “Hey, sweet thing. Don't you know you have to pay the toll?” he said with a wink and a cocky grin. Boone wasn't sure if he meant money or something else, but either way, he didn't like his tone.

She lightly shoved him aside with a sneer. “Fuck off, Pacer,” she said with contempt, moving past him into the next room.

It was apparent that the man had a come-back, most likely a vulgar one, but seemed to think better of it after taking a look at the burly soldier scowling at him. Even though Boone was still annoyed with the Courier, he wasn't going to tolerate this guy disrespecting her. As he walked by, the man whispered to him, “Watch yourself with that one,” but he got no reaction.

In the next room, there were several tables and a stage where one of the kings was practicing a song Boone had never heard before. Beth walked over to a table up front where a man in a white dinner jacket sat watching the performance, a cyber dog laying at his feet.

Looking up at her, he gave a crooked smile. “Why, Ms. Evans. It's been too long,” the man said, with casual familiarity, despite the formality of his address. He had a strange way of speaking, slow and sultry with a peculiar accent. Gesturing toward the chair next to him, he invited her to sit down and she accepted.

The dog sat up and nudged her with his nose until she started scratching him behind his brain case. His tongue lolled out happily as he panted and wagged his tail. “Good to see you, too,” she responded with a smile, though it was unclear if she was talking to the man or the dog.

“To what do I owe the pleasure? Not that you should need a reason to stop by.”

“I need to call in that favor you owe me.”

His eyebrow raised. “I see. And what could the King possibly do for you?”

“I need two passports to the Strip. For me and my friend here.” She nodded toward Boone, who was now leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, expressionless behind his aviators.

“That shouldn't be a problem. After what you did for ole Rexy here, I'm happy to help you out. Head over to Mick and Ralph's. Tell Ralph that I sent you. Might take him a couple days, but he'll get you squared away.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.” She stood up.

“You don't gotta rush off, darlin'.” He reached out and gently grasped her hand. “Stay for dinner and a show.” His thumb stroked the back of her hand. “Or _more_. That's if your 'friend' here wouldn't mind.” He didn't look at the sniper. His eyes were fixated on Beth, looking her up and down. Boone wished he'd waited outside.

Slowly pulling her hand away with an awkward smile, she took a step back. “No, I think it's best if we keep things strictly business. You understand. Again, I do appreciate the favor.” She patted Rex on the head and moved toward the door.

“If you change your mind, you know where to find me,” he said with a wink as she walked out the door.

Once they were out of earshot of the outside guard, she let out an exasperated breath. “Ugh, I _hate_ when guys get clingy like that.”

“I take it you two have 'history'?” Boone observed, with a raised eyebrow.

She scoffed, her thumb gesturing back toward the school. “No, _he_ has 'history.' _I_ had a couple weeks of fun, then suddenly he wants me to be his 'best girl.' Whatever the fuck that means.” Rolling her eyes, she kept walking up the street.

“And that other guy? What's his name?”

“Pacer?!” she laughed, her face twisted in disgust. “Gah, no! Fucking jet head. I do have some standards.” She glanced at her companion sideways for a moment, then at her Pip-Boy. “Eh, Ralph usually knocks off before now. We'll have to go in the morning.” They kept walking until they reached the Atomic Wrangler. “Come on, I'll buy you dinner.”

* * * * *

The next morning, they went to Mick and Ralph's shop to request the passports the King had promised. Ralph confirmed that he could get them, but it would take until the next day.

As they were walking back toward the Atomic Wrangler, she spotted an older man in ragged clothes sitting on the ground against one of the ruined buildings and went up to him. He looked pale and sick, his beard and clothing crusted with filth. Boone stood back and watched, wondering what she was doing. The strung-out vagrants of Freeside weren't usually people anyone paid any attention to unless they were coming at them with a weapon.

“Bill?” she asked.

“Oh, hey, Betty,” the man greeted, peering up at her with bleary, reddened eyes.

“It's Beth.”

“Right. Yeah.”

“What the hell happened to you? Last I saw, you were with the Followers.”

He scratched at his scraggly beard, but didn't answer.

“I thought you had your shit together. What would Julie say if she saw you like this?”

At that, he looked down at the ground. “Julie? She's the best. I love Julie,” he slurred with a sniff. “She...she'd be real disappointed.” Tears started welling up in his eyes.

“Ah, Bill.” She crouched down, but didn't touch him or get too close. Boone didn't blame her, since it seemed that the man had fallen off the bathing wagon, as well. “Come on, man. Don't cry.”

Bill rubbed at his eyes roughly with his dirty calloused hands. “I don't want to keep on like this...but I can't stop. Please don't tell Julie.”

“Can't stop what? What have you been taking?”

“This stuff...whiskey Dixon has.” He held up an almost empty bottle. “The regular stuff just don't do it. Without it, I get so sick...”

“Son of a bitch,” she cursed under her breath as she stood up. Her face tight with rage, she stormed back up the street to Mick and Ralph's, where a shifty-looking man was standing outside.

“Dixon! I need to talk to you,” she demanded.

“Okay, but make it quick. My schedule's a little full up,” he responded with a smug smirk.

“Funny. What's going on with Bill Ronte? He says you've been supplying him with some kind of special booze.”

He laughed. “Yeah, girl. He can't get enough of my shit.”

“That so? Well, I think it's time to cut him off.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I asked you to. And you don't want to fuck with me.” She took a step toward him and stared him down. Boone wondered if she would be as bold if he wasn't standing right behind her.

“What? Little miss friend of the Followers gonna kill me right in the middle of the street?” He laughed again.

“No, I'll make sure word gets around that the NCR has been supplying you with cheap chems to keep the citizens of Freeside strung out.”  
The dealer's eyes narrowed. “That's a lie!”

Crossing her arms, she sneered at him. “Who are people going to believe? Me or a scumbag chem dealer? You'll be lucky to scrape a living selling iguana bits by the gate.”

With a grunt, he relented. “Fine! He's cut off.”

Satisfied, she gave him a sweet smile and stepped back. “Always a pleasure, Dixon. Have a nice day.”

“Fuck off, cun--”

Before he could finish the last word, Boone had him pinned against the wall, knocking the air from his lungs. His forearm pressed high on the dealer's chest, nearly to his throat. The sniper's eyes were hidden behind his aviators, but his mouth scowled in fury mere inches from the other man's face. “What did you say to her?” he growled.

Both Dixon and Beth's eyes were wide in surprise. The dealer tried to catch his breath as he responded, “Nu...nothing.”

“Apologize.”

Without moving his head, his eyes turned to look at the Courier. “Sorry. I'm sorry.”

Boone pulled his arm away, but didn't relax his expression. “Watch your mouth.” With that, he and Beth walked back the way they came, leaving the dealer visibly shaken.

When they were out of earshot, she asked calmly, “What was that back there?”

“What? I'm not going to let some chem-slinging lowlife talk to you like that.”

She stopped walking and turned to look up at him. “I'd appreciate if you didn't do that again.”

He gave a baffled scoff. “So I'm supposed to stand by while he calls you... _that_ word.”

“Yeah, that's exactly what you're supposed to do. Listen, Boone, I appreciate you watching my back, but I don't need you to protect my feelings. I don't care what he says. It doesn't matter. Guys like Dixon, they're all talk. The guy who's telling me to fuck off to my face isn't the one I'm worrying about stabbing me in the back. So no more protective 'tough guy' act. Got it?”

“Fine,” he grunted. He didn't know why he cared so much anyway.

“Thank you.”

“Would you really have spread lies about the NCR trying to fuck up Freeside?” he asked.

“No. But he didn't know that.”

They returned to the alley near the Atomic Wrangler where they found Bill still sitting slumped against the wall. Beth addressed him sternly, “Sorry, Bill, but Dixon isn't going to sell to you anymore.”

“What? What did you do?!” he demanded.

“It doesn't matter. You're cut off. Time to get your shit together.”

He stood up on shaky legs. “I'm gonna die without a fix.”

“No, you won't,” she assured him. “Let's get you back to the Followers. They can help you.”

Backing away from her, he shook his head. “No. I don't want Julie to see me like this.”

“She's seen worse, I'm sure. She's going to be glad you're getting clean. The Followers need you. Come on.”

He wrinkled his face defiantly. “No!”

“How's Julie going to feel if you die here on the street? Guilty. That's how. She'll feel guilty that you didn't trust her enough to ask for help. Swallow your pride.” Beth bit her lip and sighed. “Please, Bill.”

He hung his head for a moment, then nodded.

* * * * *

Late that night, the companions ate dinner by the fire at the Old Mormon Fort. Beth looked thoughtful as she picked at the food on her plate and looked around at the darkened camp. “This is the way things should be. People helping other people. Freeside could be so much better than it is. A friend of mine once said the world was like glass. It was broken in the war and people try to put it back together like it was, yet it will never go back together in the same way. But it can be made into something else, something better. I think that's what they're doing here. The Followers. Not trying to remake what was—instead trying to make something new and good out of the wreckage. That's what the world needs more of. Making good out of what we have, not just making due with what's left over. People need to stop mourning the old world.”

She wondered how things could have been different if there had been a group like this back in the Capital Wasteland. Maybe she could have become a doctor like she was supposed to. Maybe her father would still be alive. Maybe everything would have been different.

Boone listened silently, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Things between them still felt tense and she wished she knew how to fix it.

“I would have liked to have met your friend,” a voice came out of the dark. “Sounds like they have some interesting perspectives on things.”

“Hey, Arcade,” she greeted, recognizing his voice before she saw him. “Yeah, Moira's one of a kind.”

“Where is she now?” asked the doctor.

“Back home safe, I hope. Still running her shop. Experimenting and writing. Ever hear of the Wasteland Survival Guide?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Strange book. Little all over the place, but oddly insightful at points.”

“Well, she wrote it, so there you go. Anyway, it's good to see you. How's your research going?”

“Slowly.” Looking over at the sniper with a raised eyebrow, he asked, “Who's your friend?”

“Oh, sorry. This is Boone. Boone, this is Doctor Arcade Gannon. He's a researcher here with the Followers.”

Arcade stuck out his hand and it stayed there for a couple of awkward seconds before the other man took it in a firm shake. “Nice to meet you. Is Boone your last name or your first?”

“Last,” the sniper said. “First name's Craig.”

The Courier thought a moment, trying to remember if she had known that. It seemed like everyone just called him “Boone” and she hadn't really questioned it. She had known a lot of people who only had one name.

After a few moments of awkward silence, the doctor spoke up again, “Anyway, I should get some sleep. It's been a long day. If you're still around in the morning, we can catch up.”

“Sorry,” Beth responded. “We have to leave early. I have some business on the Strip.”

“Well, then, next time. Good night. Again, nice meeting you, Craig.” With a nod, he walked away and into one of the tents.

Turning to see the questioning look on her companions' face, Beth smirked. “Before you ask, no, I don't have 'history' with him. I'm not his type.” Even if she were, he reminded her too much of her father: an idealistic doctor working to benefit the people of the Wasteland. From what she could remember, they also looked quite a bit alike. She had noticed it from the first moment she met him almost three years ago.

Arcade seemed to have secrets, too. She recognized them now, the signs she had missed with Dad: the skirting around subjects, the vague references, the deflections. The lies. The difference was that Arcade's secrets didn't have anything to do with her and he was welcome to keep them.

“Hey, uh...” Boone spoke up. “Sorry for that shit back there this afternoon.”

It was unexpected, but she was glad he said it and she gave him a small smile. “Don't worry about it. Things have been a bit...intense lately. Let's just forget it happened.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

At that, they both seemed more relaxed.

Despite what she had said earlier, she was internally conflicted about his protective display. She wasn't really sure what to make of Boone at all. He was so closed-off with his emotions, yet one comment from a random Freeside dealer and he pounced like his own mother was insulted. It was unexpected. She was ashamed that part of her found it a little attractive, in a primal sort of way.

Quickly, she pushed away the notion. Tomorrow, she would take care of Benny and that's what she needed to focus on. Everything else was just a distraction.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moira was one of my favorite parts of Fallout 3, largely because of what she said about the world being broken in the war like glass. The KT Tunstall Song “Made of Glass” reminded me of that sentiment and of the Lone Wanderer, as well. It is also where I got my user name.


	6. In the Merry Old Land of Oz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth has her first meeting with Mr. House, which causes quite the stir on the Strip.

Inside the Strip's north gate, Beth took in the scene as the sounds of Dean Martin blared in her ears from unseen speakers. Nothing had changed since the last time she was here several months ago: scantily clad prostitutes dancing on the sidewalk in front of the Gomorrah, NCR soldiers drunkenly staggering down the street, securitrons keeping everything civil.

What she did not expect was to be stopped by one of the securitrons just inside the gate. “Howdy, pardner!” it greeted her with its artificial folksy drawl. “Glad to see you made it in one piece. Welcome to New Vegas!”

“Victor? What are you doing here?” she asked. He seemed to be the same robot who had pulled her from the grave in Goodsprings.

“Consider me your welcome wagon! The big boss of New Vegas, Mr. House, is real interested in makin' your acquaintance. Just follow me to the Lucky 38 and I'll send ya right up.”

She looked at him skeptically. “Tell Mr. House I might stop by. I have some pressing business to attend to.” She was anxious to get to The Tops before Benny got word that she was alive and on the Strip. If he listened to the radio, he might have already gotten tipped off.

“The boss don't extend invites to just anyone. If I was you, I wouldn't dawdle, missy.” Victor turned and wheeled to the entrance of the Lucky 38.

“Friend of yours?” Boone asked.

“Sort of. He's the one who dug me out of the grave in Goodsprings and took me to Doc Mitchell. Didn't stop Benny from shooting me, though,” she grumbled.

“And now a face-to-face meeting with Mr. House?” Boone commented, sounding subtly impressed. “He won't even meet with President Kimball,”

This made her pause. With all her focus on Benny, she hadn't really considered that there could be larger implications to her mission. She rubbed her forehead, pushing back her headache as best she could. “What do you think he wants?”

“Who knows?” He shrugged. “He sure made it sound urgent, though.”

“He did, didn't he.” Mr. House was an almost mythic figure in New Vegas, never seen by a living soul, as far as anyone knew. Now a random courier steps out of the Wastes and is summoned by the Wizard personally. “ _Does this make me Dorothy?_ ” she wondered to herself, remembering an old pre-war movie she saw as a kid. Looking at Boone, she thought, “ _Does that make him the Scarecrow or the Tin Man?_ ”

“Guess we should go in and find out,” she said. “Maybe he knows something about Benny.”

At the door to the Lucky 38, the cowboy robot stopped them again. “Sorry, pardner. The boss don't just let any ole cowpoke in to see him. Your buddy's gonna have to stay here.”

She glanced apprehensively at Boone. “Wait here.”

“You sure?” he asked, eyeing the robot suspiciously.

“Yeah. I'll be fine. Don't worry.” She handed him her pack, but kept her weapon holstered at her side. It wouldn't be any match against a securitron, she knew, but it still made her feel somewhat at ease. Taking a deep breath, she proceeded through the large red double doors.

 

Unexpectedly, the Lucky 38 was not dark and empty inside. The casino floor shone with bright lights as the blackjack tables and dormant slot machines awaited their absent gamblers. The check-in desk still had papers on the counter and the bar on the mezzanine looked fully stocked. Gaudy and worn carpet covered the floor. It had everything any other casino would have. Except people. The state of it gave the impression it was shut down suddenly, likely when the bombs fell.

The dusty and stale air felt cool on her skin. She wondered if they always air conditioned the uninhabited building or if it was done for her benefit. Two securitrons stood guard near the entrance and one stood by the elevator with Victor's face on its screen. Either there was more than one Victor or he could transfer himself to whichever securitron he wanted.

She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a small metal box. Fishing two of the little red pills out of it, she popped them in her mouth and put the box away. As the mentats dissolved under her tongue, she felt the clearing effects on her mind, almost making her feel normal, aside from the still painful headache. While she had avoided taking them previously, since she was aware that mixing chems was a decidedly bad idea, this was a special circumstance. The plan had been to take them when she she got to Benny, but they seemed more necessary now.

Tucking her sunglasses into her shirt collar, the Courier did her best to compose herself on the ride up the elevator and to prepare for what would come next. When the doors reopened, however, she found those preparations lacking. Would she be meeting an actual man or another securitron? Some kind of artificial intelligence? A ghoul perhaps? Who else could survive for so long?

The Penthouse gleamed clean and white with its polished marble floor. Sunlight shone in bright through the windows, which gave a clear unobstructed view of the mountains surrounding the desert valley. The lavish furnishings looked new and unused. Curtains separating rooms were the only things that seemed at all tattered, likely from being caught on the robots over the years.

Another securitron stood directly in front of the elevator. This one's screen showed the face of a woman with sultry eyes and a flower in her hair.

Feeling uncomfortably under-dressed in her dirty jeans and dusty boots, Beth took off her hat and combed her fingers through her dark, sweaty hair.

To her left through the doorway and down an open staircase hummed a console. A large screen showed the static image of a middle-aged man with a mustache. There were three more securitrons in view, as well. Did they always stand guard or was this a unique show of force?

This all brought to mind her meeting with President Eden all those years ago back in the Capital Wasteland. At least this time, she hadn't had to fight her way here. Mr. House had total control of his soldiers and she could be confident she was safe. If he had wanted her dead, Victor would have left her in that grave.

Slowly, she made her way down the stairs, her footsteps echoing in the nearly silent room. “Hello?” she asked cautiously as she approached the console.

“Ms. Evans. This meeting has been a long time coming, hasn't it?” said the speakers on either side of the screen. The voice was deep and business-like, but subtly warm and friendly.

She looked at the screen, puzzled. “If you say so. Nice to meet you, too, Mr. House,” she said hesitantly.

“I have to ask, now that you've reached your destination, what do you make of what you see?”

Was he just extending pleasantries or did he actually want to hear her opinion? “Very nice. I've never seen anything like it,” she replied honestly, looking around the room. Having been in a few luxurious places before, they all paled in comparison to the Lucky 38's penthouse.

Suddenly, the screen went blank and flashed a “Connection Lost...” message. Then, it flickered and the face was back again.

“Vegas always was unique, although it now pales in comparison to the city's glitz and glamour prior to the Great War. Yet, I managed to preserve its spirit.” His voice glowed with pride. “Or were you referring to the Lucky 38? While she has worn a bit over the years, her impressive tower is still a shining beacon, able to be seen for miles. As it was intended.”

“Why the VIP treatment? I'm just a courier.” From what Boone had said, even the higher-ups in the NCR had never set foot in here, never spoken to Mr. House directly. What was so important that he had to see **her** face-to-face? So to speak.

“Oh, please. I cannot abide false modesty. You've been playing a high-stakes game since you came out of the ground. Don't be afraid to admit it.” She could almost hear a smile in the way he said the last sentence.

She knew she had been taking more risks since being pulled out of that grave. The searing throb in her head had given her a sense of urgency along with her desire for revenge. Is that what impressed him enough that he had to meet with her?

Overall, his manner was very interesting, very human, which put her more at ease. If “The Man Behind the Curtain” was just a man, or even a ghoul, she could work with that. However, she needed to know for sure. “Who are you exactly, Mr. House? I mean, I know _who_ you are, but...”

“You want to know **what** I am.”

She nodded. “Yes. If you are the actual Robert House, you must be well over 200 years old. Unless you're a mutant or a ghoul, that's impossible.”

“I assure you, I am as human as you are. My knowledge of the science of longevity would fill several textbooks. Perhaps at another time, we can discuss it further.”

That was unlikely, she knew. “Let's get down to business, then,” she replied with confidence.

“Excellent. The bottom line is that one of my employees has stolen something extraordinarily valuable from me, the package you were hired to deliver. The Platinum Chip. I want it retrieved.”

“Benny is your employee?” That she had not expected.

“Yes, as all of the Three Families are. In fact, before his recent betrayal, I had intended to make him my protege. Fortunately, you've come along as a more than suitable replacement.” He sounded oddly pleased with that.

Again, she was confused. “Why do you need a 'protege'? And what makes you think I'd want the job?”

“I need a capable human agent to carry out specific... _tasks_ that my securitrons are incapable of completing. As for why _you_ would be interested, the rewards are quite immense. To start, bring me the Platinum Chip and I will pay you four times the delivery bonus stipulated in the contract. I will also grant you full use of the Presidential Suite for as long as you'd like.”

“What about Benny?”

“Do with him what you will. He is of no further use to me.”

“Alright.” At least he wasn't going to try to get in the way of her revenge—not that she would have let that matter.

“Keep in mind that he has personal bodyguards by his side at all times, except when in his suite on the thirteenth floor of the Tops.”

“I'll figure something out.”

“I have no doubt you will.”

* * * * *

Boone sat on the steps in the shade outside the Lucky 38 and looked out over the Strip. He hadn't been back here since before he'd picked up his discharge papers and moved to Novac. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Thinking back, it almost felt like it had all happened to someone else, like he watched it 2nd hand.

From here, he could see the spot in front of the Tops where Carla had first approached him almost two years ago. She had been right: he had been lost. She had never really found him, though--not who he really was, anyway. It was a small solace to know that she died still believing he was a good and honorable man.

He sighed and rubbed his moistening eyes underneath his aviators.

“Nice day we're havin',” the cowboy securitron said, breaking Boone out of his thoughts.

Without looking back at him, he grunted in response. It was barely mid-morning and it was already clear that it was going to be an exceedingly hot day for October. Days like these reminded him of one of the few things he missed about Rock Bay: the weather. He had gotten used to the heat during his time in the army, but when given the choice, he still volunteered for the night shift in Novac to avoid the heat.

There was a clicking sound behind him and he looked to see if it was Beth coming out, but it must have just been Victor moving around.

Once again, he asked himself the same question he'd wondered several times over their time traveling together: “ _Who the hell was this courier_?” She seemed to know people all over the Mojave, which made some sense for someone who traveled around a lot. But now Mr. House not only let her into the Lucky 38, he _invited_ her. He had insisted, even. It was astonishing. The NCR had been trying for years to get a face-to-face meeting with Mr. House. All their requests reportedly were either refused or ignored, usually the latter. Communications and negotiations were handled either through the securitrons or text correspondence. Not one was ever allowed inside the Lucky 38. People tried, but none ever even managed to so much as lay a hand on the door.

This courier was certainly a strange and interesting person. His curiosity was piqued, but after their previous clashes, he wasn't going to ask personal questions.

All this made him wonder why _he_ was the one she chose to drag along on her quest for vengeance. Maybe she thought he looked lost, too. 

* * * * *

Beth stepped outside in to the bright mid-morning sun and put her sunglasses back on. She walked over to Boone who was waiting on the steps nearby and said, “Let's get going.”

He stood up and asked, “What'd he say?”

“He doesn't care what happens to Benny. The Chip is all he cares about. Whatever that thing is, it must be really important.”

“What's our next move?”

Blinking hard behind her dark shades, trying to push back the persistent pain above her eyes, she scoffed, “I don't care about House's money or his Chip. If I get it back, he can have it. I just want to dispatch Benny and be done with it.”

Still, a voice in the back of her mind told her it wouldn't be that easy. As House had said, they were playing at high-stakes here. How likely was it that she could just throw her own chips down, hit a jackpot, cash out, and walk away? Maybe this hand needed to be played closer to the chest. If she went in, guns blazing, she'd likely find herself shot by more than two bullets by Benny and his thugs. What's more, she'd get Boone killed along with her. No, this would have to be a more careful hand. Maybe she could get Benny alone by convincing him that was in his best interest to talk things out. If it didn't work, a more direct approach was still an option.

Beth started heading for the Tops, Boone in tow, when she noticed everyone on the street was looking at her and remarking on her visit to the Lucky 38. She felt her cheeks flush at the unwanted attention. Before she could reach the gate to the middle section of the Strip, a young NCR trooper ran up to her, a bit out of breath. “Excuse me, ma'am! I have a message for you. From ambassador Crocker. Very important. Here you go.” He handed her a note and then ran back the way he came.

“What does it say?” Boone asked, craning his neck to see the paper in her hand.

She opened it and looked it over. “Mostly fluff about how great the NCR is, but the gist is that he wants to see me.” Giving an exasperated sigh, she put the note in her pocket. “I really don't have time for this.”

“I know you didn't ask my opinion, but Crocker might have information you could use.”

She considered his point. “Yeah, you might be right, but going inside the Lucky 38 drew a lot of attention. I can't risk Benny getting word that I'm alive and on the Strip. I need to go to The Tops first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading.
> 
> And before anyone thinks that I'm insulting Boone by comparing him to the Scarecrow or the Tin Man, remember, as the song by America put it "Oz never did give nothin' to the Tin Man that he didn't already have."


	7. Baby, I'm a Fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth confronts Benny at The Tops. Two unexpected encounters raise the stakes further.

“What in the goddamn...?” The Chairman took a step back as the color drained from his face. “Let's keep it cool, hey?” His hands were open in front of him and he gestured them up and down slightly, trying to keep the situation calm. Suddenly, his eyes widened in realization. “Wait. That brunette broad everyone saw go in the Lucky 38, that was _you_? Shit.”

“Seems you need to work on your marksmanship,” Beth replied bitterly. She glared at him with cold eyes, resisting the urge to pull out her hidden gun and empty it into his skull. The only thing that stopped her were the four henchmen that stood around him. Her own backup, the sniper, watched from a nearby roulette table, pretending to be interested in the game.

“I hit what I was aiming for. You gotta be the luckiest chick in the Mojave. Remind me to have my boys keep you away from the tables. You'd clean the place out.” The dark haired man let out a small nervous chuckle. “Anyway, baby, this is good news. Now I can sleep tight, knowing you're still kickin'.”

“Right.” She scoffed at the feigned sentiment. “ _You'll be resting quite peacefully when I'm done with you,_ ” she thought. Studying the sleazebag in front of her, it occurred to her that she might be able to seduce him. It would be truly priceless to see him standing in front of her with his pants around his ankles while she pointed her gun at _his_ forehead. Thinking about the shock and fear on his face in such a vulnerable state made her smile internally. Ultimately though, the idea of flirting with him made her stomach churn. She glanced over at Boone, his eyes meeting hers briefly over the top of his aviators as he set a chip down on red. Looking back to Benny, she sneered. “Give me one good reason not to kill you.”

“You want a reason, how about four?” he replied in a slightly hushed voice, gesturing with his thumbs to the men standing around him. “Bodyguards, and every one of them is packing. Me, too—so baby makes five.” His lips stretched into a smug smile. “Besides, Doll Face, it'd be a shame for you to waste the _platinum_ opportunity I can offer you. Let me clue you in.”

“I'm listening.” This was the opening she was looking for. Lure him in and make him think he could talk her down.

“To start, I'll comp you the Presidential - best suite in the house. Just the beginning of the VIP lifestyle you're soon to become accustomed. I'll hang down here for a bit, make everything look business-as-usual, then I'll be right up.”

She paused with uncertainty. Maybe he was being sincere. After all, if he wanted to kill her, why not just have his goons do it right here? “Fine, but don't keep me waiting.”

“Don't worry, Kitty Cat. I want to talk to you as much as you want to talk to me. Can't wait to hear all about your visit to the 38.” He stepped toward her. “And you dig this is just first base, right? You and me have a future together, and it's big league and open all night.” Giving her a wink to match his grin, he pressed the key into her palm with his surprisingly soft hands. “Here's the key to the Prez. Pour yourself something top-shelf and I'll be there in two shakes.”

Without taking her eyes off Benny, she put the key into her pocket. “Ten minutes.”

“I'll be counting the seconds, Baby Doll.”

 

 

Beth walked back through the casino floor towards the elevator to the Presidential Suite. Boone didn't acknowledge her as she passed by. Instead, he waited until the Chairman wasn't looking, then followed after her into the elevator.

“So what's the plan?” he asked.

“He says he wants to talk.”

“Talk? About what?”

“Doesn't matter. I just needed to get him alone. I'm not going to give him the chance to say much of anything.”

* * * * *

 

“Fuck that snake!” Beth shouted, picking up a bottle from the bar and flinging it against the wall. It shattered into a spray of whiskey and glass. “He fucking played me!” She quickly reloaded the small revolver she had smuggled into the casino. “He's not getting away. Not again.” Blood soaked into the fabric of her pants where a bullet had grazed her thigh, but with a fresh shot of med-ex, she didn't even notice it.

Boone picked up a gun from one of Benny's fallen goons, checking to see that it was still loaded. “Where are we going?”

“Thirteenth Floor!” she growled, charging into the elevator and down to where House told her Benny's suite was, kicking herself for not going directly there in the first place. She let House and the NCR get in her head, which made her second-guess herself. That had been a mistake.

The sniper had to break out in a jog to keep up with her as she marched down the hall. The suite's door was locked. Beth pulled out her lock picks and went to work on it, but had more difficulty than she usually did. Her hands were shaking and it was harder to focus on close objects. Whereas normally it would have taken her seconds to pick a lock like this, it instead took several minutes. Once the door was open, they found that the chairman wasn't there.

She started searching, opening drawers and rifling through papers she couldn't read, trying to put the increasing pain in her head out of her mind so she could focus. The med-x didn't seem to be helping much now. In the earlier struggle, one of the goons had knocked her down and the back of her head hit the side of one of the pool tables. She could feel the damage the blow had done to her already fragile state. A sense of dread set down low in her stomach as she reminded herself that if she didn't find Benny soon, it would probably be too late.

“What are we looking for?” her companion asked.

Vision blurring, she grimaced. “Anything that could tell us more about where he went.” From her pocket, she put two more mentats into her mouth and chewed them as she continued searching. As the chems took effect, the blur started to subside and she felt more steady on her feet.

Boone started looking around, too. Picking something up off the coffee table, he commented, “Huh. Never seen a gun like this before.” He pulled a pistol out of its holster and examined the strange snakeskin grip.

Seeing the gun in his hand, she stiffened her jaw in outrage. “That's mine! Prick stole it off me!” She picked up a blue keycard from the same table—her passport to the Strip. “This, too.” Throwing it down, she kicked the table. “Mother fucker!” Taking the holster from Boone, she buckled it back in place and checked the gun over. She handled it with careful reverence. It was more than just a gun to her.

Marching into the bedroom, she began rifling through drawers, then opened the closet door. Inside and through the broken back wall, there stood a lone securitron with a smiling face. “What the hell?” she breathed, looking at it through narrowed eyes.

“Well, hi there!” the robot greeted in an exaggeratedly pleasant tone.

 

* * * * *

 

“Boone, could you grab our stuff from the guard, please?” she asked as they walked toward the front desk. “I need to step outside and get some air.” He nodded silently to her and the Courier pushed open the heavy double doors into the blazingly bright New Vegas sun.

Beth needed to think, but the renewed concussion from the fight with the goons wasn't helping. Luckily, the wound in her leg had stopped bleeding, although she still barely noticed it due to the med-x and the competing pain in her head. Momentarily, she thought about going to Old Mormon Fort to have her leg treated, but dismissed it quickly. That wound wasn’t going to kill her. As for the one that would, she didn’t think there was anything to be done about it now. More than anything, she just wanted this all to be over.

Meeting Yes Man had been unexpected and quite unnerving. Benny had apparently stolen the Chip with plans to take House's place and rule over Vegas. Now the robot seemed to think that she would be the one to take over Benny's plan.

From past experiences, she really didn't trust artificial intelligence and any AI affiliated with Benny was certainly not to be trusted. How did she know it was telling the truth? How could she be sure that it wasn't still being controlled somehow? Who would be stupid enough to program a robot that responded to _anyone's_ commands, no password or anything, when it was so central to his plans? It didn't make sense.

Sighing deeply, she walked forward, intending to sit for a minute to gather herself, but she was stopped by a man in a dark suit. He wore a pre-war hat that shaded his strangely pale face.

“The eyes of the mighty Caesar are upon you, Courier,” he addressed her. Standing uncomfortably close, he kept his voice low and firm, pronouncing the leader's name with a hard _k_ sound. The words made her freeze in place as his steel blue eyes stared into her. “Your accomplishments have earned his admiration and he bestows upon you the rare and exceptional gift of his Mark.” He took her hand and pressed something cold and metallic into it, closing her fingers around the object. “Your crimes against the Legion are hereby forgiven. Know that Caesar's mercy will not be offered a second time.”

She didn't respond. Her mind was racing, but none of the thoughts were terribly coherent except, “ _The Legion is watching._ ”

“My Lord requires your presence at his camp, at Fortification Hill. His Mark will guarantee your safe-conduct through our lands,” he said, still holding onto her hand with both of his. “Should you need additional incentive to accept his invitation, the man you seek is making haste for Caesar's camp as we speak.” She felt his breath on her face as he leaned in slightly more. Brushing his lower lip against her cheek, he added with a whisper, “Caesar awaits.”

 

* * * * *

 

As requested, the sniper collected their confiscated belongings, making sure they were all accounted for, then followed after his companion.

After his eyes adjusted to the light, he found her standing close by. Even from the back, he could see she was tense and trembling. “Beth?” he said to her, but she didn't seem to hear him. Reaching out, he touched her shoulder lightly, causing her to whirl around. Her fist was about to make contact with his jaw, but he caught her arm.

“Shit, Boone! I'm sorry!” she exclaimed.

Releasing her, he asked with concern, “Are you alright?” She shook her head and held out her trembling left hand which held something metallic. At first, he thought it might be the Chip she had been looking for. It wasn't platinum, though: it was gold. Looking closer, he could see the image of a bull on the facing side. “What the fuck?! Where did you get that?!” he demanded in a hushed tone.

“A disguised legionary gave it to me,” she said.

His eyes widened and he scanned the crowd, his breath quickening. “A legionary, here, on the Strip?!”

“He's gone now.” She looked up at him blankly. “He confirmed Benny is headed toward Legion territory like Yes Man said he was.”

Pointing to the large coin, he asked urgently, “What is this for?” Without a word, she turned and started walking. Following her, he asked her again, but she didn't answer him until they were securely inside the Lucky 38. “Beth, what the hell is going on?”

She seemed to be trying to catch her breath and steady herself. Finally, she responded, “It's an invitation. Caesar wants to see me. Apparently all my 'crimes' against the Legion are forgiven.”

His eyes widened in alarm. “No! You are **not** seriously considering--”

She looked at him with a bit more clarity in her eyes. “Oh, hell no! I'm not insane.”

Boone sighed and dropped his shoulders in relief. “Good.” He could never have been convinced that it would be safe for her to go into a Legion camp for an audience with Caesar, pardon or no. Having seen with his own eyes what they do to women, he wasn't about to let that happen to her, too. She had attacked the Legion because of him. If not for that, she might not have been on their radar in the first place. He felt responsible for her safety.

“But what am I going to do?” Her voice faltered.

He put his hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eye with all seriousness. “What are _we_ going to do? I've got your back.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “I guess I'm going to be keeping my promise about us going after the Legion after all,” she remarked with an uneasy smile.

 


	8. The Weight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth intends to track Benny down at Fortification Hill with Boone, but her head injuries catch up to her.

Beth tapped the table next to the ace of hearts and four of diamonds in front of her with her finger. The dealer flipped over another card, the six of diamonds. Flipping over his hidden card, the dealer then stood at seventeen.

There weren't any delivery jobs available from the local Mojave Express office, but the courier was making up for it. The stack of chips next to her grew, making her smile as she took a sip of her cold sarsaparilla. She never drank alcohol when she gambled.

“Hey, Evans!” a voice called out behind her.

She glanced toward the source of the voice, then looked back to the table. The dealer dealt her two more cards: the king of clubs and the ace of diamonds. “Make it quick, Nash. I'm on a hot streak.” More chips were added to her stack. She gestured with her hand not to deal to her again and she swiveled around on her stool.

The elderly black man hurried over and held out a small package to her. “Glad you stuck around. Here. Got a delivery for you to take to New Vegas.”

“You said you didn't have any more deliveries. This just come in?”

“Nah, the courier who was supposed to take it turned it down. Seemed to recognize your name on the list and said you should take it.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Huh. That's odd.” She only knew a couple of other Mojave Express couriers and neither of them ever turned down work.

“Yeah, I asked if he was sure, since the caps were good. He said, 'Yes, let Evans carry it.'” His voice deepened in imitation. “Real dire. Like, I don't know...the Wasteland would sort you out or something.” He shook his head.

With a scoff, she took the package from him. “It hasn't so far. He probably heard about the deathclaw problem up by Sloan and didn't want to go around the long way.”

“Well he's done working for me,” he remarked with irritation, crossing his arms over his chest. “If you hadn't stuck around, I'd been in a real bind. I hope the Divide skins him alive.”

“If he's foolish enough to go out there, I'm sure it will.” Giving a small laugh at his statement, she opened the delivery slip and raised an eyebrow. “A poker chip? They don't have enough of those in Vegas already?”

Nash shrugged. “Got a bunch of packages like that this mornin'. Some dice, a chess piece, a little roulette wheel. All going to Vegas.”

“Why not just have one courier take all of them?” Moving these small packages at all, let alone like this, seemed like a complete waste of money.

“Nope. Robot who hired us specifically said each needed to be taken separately.”

“A robot?”

“Yup. I dunno, it's strange, but the caps were good enough, I didn't ask questions.” He pulled out a bag from his pocket and handed it to her. “Here's 250 caps now and there'll be another 250 when you get it there.”

“Thanks.” She dropped both the bag of caps and the package into her pack, then raked the accumulated poker chips from the table into her hand. “I'll cash out and be on my way.”

“You want some of Ruby's casserole to take with ya? She just made a fresh batch this mornin'.”

Beth suppressed a grimace at the offer of the poisonous dish. “No, thank you. Too... _spicy_ for me. I'll just grab something when I get to Goodsprings.”

“Alright, just watch out for those deathclaws.”

“Eh, don't worry. Nothing I can't handle.”

* * * * *

With a quick stop at Mick and Ralph's to restock their ammo and get some repairs for their gear, the companions were soon back in the Wasteland headed towards Fortification Hill.

Boone had noticed some changes in the Courier's manner since the fight at The Tops. She seemed more quiet and distant than before. For extended stretches, she would just stare off into nothing and when he spoke to her, it would take a moment to get her attention. Her eyes seemed unfocused and her aim was off, as well. He saw her take a shot at a molerat and miss by at least a foot.

At first, he thought it may have been med-x or that she was distracted by the various new developments in her quest for vengeance, but he was starting to worry it was more than that. He had seen soldiers he served with display similar symptoms after a significant head injury. Maybe that doctor in Goodsprings didn't “fix her right up” as much as was thought and the fighting since had only made things worse.

As they walked, he abruptly asked, as casually as he could, “Hey, you think you should get a doc to look at you, make sure your head's still okay?”

“No, why would I?” Her tone was flat and dismissive.

“You haven't seemed yourself since we left The Tops.”

Beth's mouth tightened in a sneer. “How long have we known each other? Maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do.”

“Maybe.” He was still unconvinced. “Still wouldn't hurt to--”

“Drop it!” she snapped.

He put his hands up to show her he got the message.

They walked along in silence for another mile or so before she staggered and then stumbled forward, her pack falling off her shoulder. Boone reached out to catch her, but wasn't quick enough and she collapsed to the ground.

“Beth!” he cried out, falling to his knees at her side, his heart suddenly pounding. Dropping his bag, he rolled her carefully onto her back, cradling her head in his hand. Her focus seemed to fade in and out as she lingered in a semi-consciousness state. “Beth! Shit!” He reached into his bag and pulled out a stimpak, uncapped it with his teeth, and injected it into her neck as he had seen her do. Luckily, years of experience as a sniper gave him a steady hand, even in dire situations. “Come on, come on...” After a moment, she started to come around. “Beth? You still with me?”

She gave a low moan, struggling to keep her eyes open, looking at the syringe still in his hand. “I don't think a stimpak's going to do it this time.” Looking up at him with unfocused eyes, she grasped his arm weakly. “I'm sorry I snapped at you.”

“It's fine. Don't worry about it.” He pursed his lips and gently dusted the sand from her face.

“Boone?” she said with a sad smile. “Whatever happens...I'm glad we met.”

“Yeah, me too,” he said through clenched teeth, returning her sad smile. “Come on, we need to get you some help.” He took a pistol out of his pack and tucked it in his waistband. Bending down, he pulled her to her feet and draped her arm over his shoulder. Then he lifted the rest of her onto his shoulders. Basic training taught him that carrying someone like this took much less effort than using his arms and it left one hand free.

The New Vegas Clinic was the closest place with a doctor that he knew of. If he hurried, he estimated he could have her there in a little over an hour. Seeing their packs lying on the ground, he knew he would have to come back for them, since any extra weight would only slow him down. She might be pissed if her stuff was stolen, but he reasoned her life was worth more than anything she could possibly have in there. The obviously beloved .45 she had recovered from Benny's suite was still holstered at her side, so there was that, at least.

He held his own pistol in his free hand in case of trouble, silently hoping he wouldn't need to use it. Running as quickly as he could across the desert highway, his heart beat heavily in his chest with a feeling of dread. He knew that if they were ambushed by anything much more formidable than a gecko, they likely wouldn't survive. As he ran, he scanned their surroundings for any movement or signs of trouble, but didn't see any. Luckily, they were pretty far from Legion territory and frequent NCR patrols kept the roads around Vegas clear of most other dangers.

The weight on his back felt heavier with each stride. His legs started to burn, he grew short of breath, and his mouth felt as dry as the sand under his feet. The short time traveling with the Courier hadn't made up for the previous sixteen months where his main physical activity was walking to and from the sniper's nest. Still, he pushed through. He wasn't going to let her die just because he was out of shape.

His dread began to subside when he saw that they were getting closer to their destination. Finally reaching the door to the clinic, he pulled it open and called out with all of the breath in his lungs, “Doctor! I need a doctor here!”

“Dr. Usanagi!” one of the guards yelled.

A young Asian woman in a lab coat came rushing from the back and Boone hurried toward her. Seeing the woman being carried, she gestured to one of the guards to get a gurney. “What happened?”

“Head injury...gunshot...few weeks ago,” the sniper said between labored gasps as his heart pounded in his chest. He couldn't remember the last time he ran like that. The guard came out with the gurney and Boone bent down to carefully place his companion on it. She was unconscious, but he was relieved to see that she was at least still breathing. Wiping away the sweat dripping into his eyes, he took a deep, ragged breath. “Earlier today, we were attacked....been worse since then....collapsed about an hour ago.” He felt dizzy and unsteady on his feet, so he leaned back against the wall.

The doctor took out a flashlight from her lab coat pocket. Prying open Beth's eyelids, she passed the beam of light back and forth. “How was she treated for the prior injury?”

“Doc in Goodsprings...been using stimpaks and med-x since. Some mentats, too. She denied it, but I think the headaches were pretty bad.” He shook his head, wishing he had insisted that she get checked out long before now. “I gave her a stimpak after she collapsed, but it only seemed to help for a few minutes.”

“Alright.” She put the flashlight back in her pocket. “Let's get her in the back.” The guard helped the doctor push the gurney back through the door. Boone started to follow, but the doctor stopped him. “Sir, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to wait out here. Don't worry, we are going to do everything we can.”

 


	9. Fire and Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Beth's condition still unknown, Boone is left to wait with his thoughts. Later, he has a confrontation.

“Beth!” he called out, charging down the clinic hallway, opening one door, which lead to another hallway lined with more closed doors. The air was stiflingly hot and full of the smell of disinfectant. Feeling disoriented in the dim light, he was starting to panic--he had to find her. “BETH!” he tried to yell, but the sound would barely come out. The next door he tried was locked and he couldn't open it, as much as he tried. He was sure she was in there. Banging on the door, he tried to yell for her, but again couldn't get the words out.

Someone reached out and grabbed his hand. Turning, he saw a familiar blonde woman in a pale dress. “Carla? You should be at home. It's not safe here.”

“I'm going to help you find her,” she said earnestly, pulling him further down the hall to a door at the end of it. Walking out of his motel room, they stepped into the dusty courtyard, the bright sunlight was almost blinding. Beth squeezed his hand. Turning to look at her, there was a small dark wound in her forehead. Blood trickled down her face, down to her mouth. “Take care of Lizzy.”

* * * * *

Boone woke suddenly and looked around, trying to get his bearings. Rubbing his neck with a wince, he regretted falling asleep sitting up on the hard couch. He hadn't meant to. The details of the dream were already starting to fade from his memory, leaving behind a vague feeling of unease.

“What time is it?” he mumbled to the clinic guard.

“A little after twenty-one hundred,” the man replied, looking at him strangely, which made him wonder if he had been talking in his sleep. Carla had told him he did that sometimes.

“Thanks,” he said, blinking his eyes hard. Nearly four hours had passed since they first reached the clinic and Beth had been rushed into the back, presumably to surgery. No one had come out to tell him anything and he didn't know how long he should expect to wait. He attempted to comfort himself with the thought that if it was hopeless, they would have known by now, so they must be able to try _something_.

Yet he couldn't shake his certainty that the bad things that he had coming to him would not only punish him, but everyone who got close to him. Benny shooting her wasn't his fault. He knew that. Still, he kept thinking about that first time he saw her, that morning in Novac. Despite what he had told her earlier, if he had to do it over again, he would have just kept walking. Maybe they both would have been better off.

Carla certainly would have been better off if she had never met him. There was no denying that. He tried to recall the feeling of her hand in his as she had pulled him along in his dream, but couldn't.

“ _It's better to be alone than to keep having everyone ripped away._ ”

A dark look spread over Boone's face. The guard looked over at him and spoke up again, “They're real good here, you know. Try not to worry.”

Nodding in acknowledgment, the sniper did not share the optimism. While the New Vegas Clinic was the best the Mojave Wasteland had to offer and the Followers trained their doctors well, it was a far cry from a proper NCR hospital with the equipment and experience to deal with this type of thing. That option was far away, however. Even the medical facility at Camp McCarran lacked more than basic equipment. He rested his elbows on his knees and rubbed his forehead with his hands.

A few minutes later, the outside door opened and Arcade rushed in, looking concerned. “I just heard. How is she?” he asked.

Boone shook his head. “I don't know. They haven't told me anything.”

The doctor nodded and hurried into the back. The sniper leaned back against the hard cushion with a deep sigh, knowing there was nothing he could do now but wait.

 

It was nearly three more hours before a man's voice broke the silence. “Craig?”

His head shot up and he stood quickly, seeing the tall doctor standing in the doorway. “Yeah?” Briskly walking toward him, he asked, “How is she?” The look on the other man's face was grave and Boone's heart started beating harder in his chest, fearing the worst.

“She's been out of surgery for about 20 minutes and for now, her vitals are stable, but she's still critical.” The words were slow and practiced, like he had given this type of news before.

Boone let out a long breath. “Is she...is she going to be okay?” he asked.

“We don't know for certain right now, but we both know she's a fighter, so take some comfort in that.”

“ _She is,_ ” he thought to himself.

“She's still sedated, but if you want, you can see her. I warn you that she doesn't look well,” Arcade cautioned.

Boone hesitated, then nodded.

The doctor led him to a back room where a figure lay on a bed, covered with a blanket pulled up to her chest. With her gray face, the skin under her eyes dark, and her head bandaged, he barely recognized her. Had he not been told otherwise just a moment ago, he would have thought she was dead. “I'll leave you for a few minutes,” Arcade said quietly before walking out of the room.

Boone stayed in the doorway, staring at her and watching her shallow breathing, before slowly walking forward and crouching down next to the bed. Not sure what to do, he reached out and took her hand gently. It was deeply unsettling how small and frail she looked, in sharp contrast to her normally bright and powerful self.

Except for the Pip-Boy, her arms were bare and he could see numerous and varying scars all along them from slashes, bullet wounds, and what looked like plasma burns. He marveled at her resilience and continued strength, while still somehow managing to be so caring and optimistic. How was she not more hardened and cynical?

Back in that first encounter that morning in Novac, he could never have predicted that her casual friendly greeting would change so much in his life, especially so quickly. Not only had she found the person responsible for the loss of his family, she had shown him there could still be more to life than the eradication of legionaries. She helped people. When she spoke, people listened. But if you crossed her, god help you. Now here she was, taken down by a petty thug while doing an errand for a rich asshole. It wasn't right. She deserved better.

Lightly stroking the back of her hand with his thumb, he studied her face until Arcade came back in again. “Craig, the anesthetic isn't going to wear off for a while and it's probably best if you go get some rest. The closest accommodations are in Freeside either at the Atomic Wrangler, if you have the caps, or at the Old Mormon Fort.”

“It's fine. I'll stay.”

The look on the doctor's face was stern. “No, it's not. You're not going to be any good to anyone if you collapse from exhaustion. You'll just be another patient we have to deal with.”

The sniper stood up and nodded to the doctor even though he didn't feel like resting. He felt like tearing through the Mojave until he found Benny and made him wish he'd never been born, but his anger was overshadowed by his worry and fatigue. He started to ask what her chances of surviving were, but based on how she looked, he knew he didn't want to hear the answer.

Back outside, he began the long walk to the spot in the desert where he had left their bags. He hadn't forgotten about them, but he hadn't wanted to leave the clinic in case there was any news. When he found their bags, they were luckily untouched except for some food having been scavenged by animals, probably molerats. Hoisting them onto his back, he turned back and wandered slowly toward Freeside, feeling very tired and sore. His legs were wobbly and there was a heavy feeling in his chest. He hadn't felt like this since his first week of basic training.

Yet, he still somehow felt less miserable than he had back in Novac for the last year. At least he was feeling _something_ besides emptiness and guilt. The pain in his legs and back reminded him that he was still alive. Even though he was worried that Beth wouldn't survive, the small amount of hope he held felt...good. It had been so long since he felt any kind of hope or care of any kind for anyone, especially for himself. 

Entering the North Gate, he glanced toward the Old Mormon Fort, but he didn't feel comfortable going there without Beth. Besides, he needed a drink to quiet his thoughts. He continued on through the next gate into the main part of Freeside.

“Well, howdy there, pardner!” came a familiar twangy voice on the other side of the gate.

“Victor,” Boone responded, with palatable annoyance. “What do you want?” After everything Beth had told him, he didn't like or trust the robot and he really wasn't in the mood to talk to him now.

“Say there, the Big Boss was just wonderin' how the Courier was getting' along finishing up that there delivery.” The cowboy image on the screen blinked a few times before settling back.

The words stirred up a fiery rage inside him. Ripping off his sunglasses so the robot could see his angry, bloodshot eyes, he stepped toward it until his face was inches from the screen. “You tell your boss that I don't give a shit about his damned 'Chip' and _Beth_ is in the New Vegas Clinic close to death after what that piece of shit Benny did to her while you stood there and watched. If he wants his Chip, he can come down from his ivory tower and get it himself.” Pulling back and replacing his sunglasses, he spat out, “Don't come near me again, robot, unless you want your circuits scattered all over the Mojave.” With that, he turned and kept marching toward his destination.

He walked down the street and to the right where he was abruptly accosted by two thugs, one wielding a pipe and the other a knife. “Really?!” he yelled aggressively at them. Still pumped with adrenaline after his confrontation with Victor, he quickly grabbed the pipe from the one and clocked him in the face with an angry fist, sending him sprawling to the ground, then lunged at the other one, who promptly rethought his plan and ran away down the street. “Fucking coward!”

_This world is a shitty place. What's the point of any of it?_

Throwing down the pipe with a hollow clang, the sniper caught his breath and proceeded into the Atomic Wrangler.

Francine was behind the bar and looked up as Boone approached. “Evenin'.” Seeing the agitated look on his face, she commented, “You're looking a little rough around the edges.”

With a wave of his hand, he sat down on one of the bar stools, trying to relax his clenched jaw. “Uh, I had to take care of some thugs outside.”

“You'd think they'd know better than to fuck with a First Recon guy, huh?” she said with a laugh, eyeing his beret. “What can I get ya?”

“Beer—no, whiskey. And a room.”

With a nod, she pulled out a bottle of brown liquid and a rocks glass. Pouring a generous amount, she slid it over to him, along with a key. He tossed down enough caps for both. Raking them off the bar into her hand, she asked, “Hey, where's your girl tonight?” She had seen him and Beth come in together a couple of days before. The Courier seemed to make a lasting impression wherever she went. She also had a particular affinity for Freeside and its people, which he really didn't understand.

His eyes narrowed behind his aviators, stopping himself from correcting her on the 'your girl' statement. “Resting.”

“Well, tell her to stop by soon.”

“Yeah.” Deciding he did not want to sit at the bar and risk further conversation about Beth, he picked up his drink and made his way to a table in the far back corner.

It wasn't long before one of the Wrangler's “girls” approached him, scantily clad and flirtatious. “You look lonely,” she cooed in a high breathy voice, leaning against the table. “Want some company?”

“Not particularly,” he replied, dryly, not looking at her. All he wanted was to be alone.

Normally, she probably would have been rebuffed, but the crowd was almost non-existent tonight, so she persisted. “Aw, come on. What's your name, soldier?” She bent a little lower to give him a better view of her cleavage as she started fingering the collar of his t-shirt.

“Uh...Johnny,” he replied, prying off her fingers and pushing her hand away from his collar. He definitely didn't want the kind of “company” she was offering. Couldn't she take a hint? Why couldn't everyone just leave him alone?

“Ah, nice wholesome soldier-boy name. I like it. My name's Mindy.” Seductively, she bit her lip and batted her eyes, then moved to try to sit on his lap, but he redirected her gently to the chair across from him. Still persisting, she asked, “Where ya from, Johnny?”

He sighed with mild irritation. “...Oregon,” he answered.

With a smile, she reached out to touch his hand, but he picked up his glass with it before she could. “I hear it's real pretty there. Maybe you could take me sometime.” She tucked a loose strand of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear.

He squinted a bit, wondering what she thought was going on here. Or maybe she was one of those “girlfriend experience” hookers. The thought of Carla crept into his mind. What would she think of this if she were here? Would she be disgusted or would she find it hilarious to see him uncomfortable being flirted with and play along? “Listen, I'm not really interested in 'company' tonight. I just came in for a drink to take my mind off things.”

Her chair scooted closer to him and she smiled sympathetically, putting her hand on his knee. “What's on your mind, hon? You can talk to me. I'm a real good listener.”

“No, thanks.” Standing up and finishing the last sip of his whiskey, he set down a handful of caps. “Here, have a drink on me. Good night.”

 

Despite the whiskey on an empty stomach and his level of exhaustion, Boone barely slept that night, his thoughts centering on Beth and the fear that he would never see her again. When he would let them, his thoughts strayed back to Carla, bringing with them the deep sadness and guilt that had been his constant companion before the Courier came along. While Carla had been too confident to be the jealous type, he couldn't help but wonder what she would think about him spending so much time with another woman.

Thinking back to the dream he had back at the clinic, he questioned if there was some deeper meaning behind it. Did he...replace Carla with Beth? Was that what he was doing?

“ _No. She's just a friend,”_ he reassured the uneasy thoughts.

He then wondered what he would do if she didn't recover, if he was left on his own again. Go back to Novac? The idea wasn't appealing. Go back to California? That was the last place he wanted to go now. Rejoin First Recon? There was a reason he hadn't stayed after his tour was up. No, he'd probably just continue on hunting legionaries until his debts finally caught up to him. Maybe he'd be able to find Benny and get vengeance for Beth like she had for him. She deserved that much, at least.

Through the window, he could see dawn breaking, so he got up, put his boots on, and headed downstairs. The Wrangler was a shabby place in the dark, but with the morning light streaming through the high windows, it was a downright pit. A greasy smell from whatever breakfast was being offered hung heavy in the air. The morning clientele certainly didn't do anything to class up the place. While he was glad to be out of there, he dreaded the walk back to the clinic, not sure what he was going to find when he arrived.

The clinic lobby was vacant except for the guard, who looked distressed. “Hey, man. Doc said to go in back as soon as you got here.”

Boone nodded, his worry intensifying at the man's demeanor. Quickly, he headed to the back room only to find the bed empty. “ _Oh, god. No._ ” He leaned against the door frame, his heart sinking into his stomach as he stared at where Beth had been the night before.

Then he felt a hand touch him on the shoulder. He whirled around, thinking for a hopeful moment that it would be her, but it was only Doctor Usanagi, also looking distressed. “They took her.”

“What?! Who?!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! All the hits, kudos, bookmarks, and comments mean so much to me.


	10. I Can See Clearly Now

 

Even before she was fully awake, she felt an intense pain searing in her skull. She let out a low groan as she opened her eyes and tried to bring her surroundings into focus to figure out where she was. From what she could tell, she was lying on a bed with a hard mattress and a metal frame. A ceiling fan slowly rotated above her, making her feel slightly dizzy. Turning her head, she winced as the motion caused the pain to sharpen.

The room appeared to be part of a pre-war house, with wood flooring and paneled walls. The window was boarded up, but some sunlight shone in through the slats, providing most of the light in the room. There were various medical instruments on tables, another hospital bed against the opposite wall, and a chair between them. The air was warm, but not stifling; it smelled of antiseptic, desert dust, and some kind of stew with meat and onions. The smell of the food was nauseating to her.

“Hey, you're comin' around,” came an unfamiliar voice from the other side of the room.

“Huh? Who are you?” she asked, groggily. “Where am I?”

With a squint of her eyes, she could make out an older man with receding gray hair and a mustache. He came more into focus as he approached her bedside. “I'm Doc Mitchell,” he answered. “You're in Goodsprings.”

“Goodsprings?” Why was she in Goodsprings? In spite of the pain, she pushed herself to sit up. She didn't like to be in a vulnerable state with a stranger.

“Whoa, there. Take it easy.” After helping her sit up, he sat down on the chair next to the bed. “You've been out for a few days now.”

“Days?” She looked down at the display on her Pip-Boy. “October nineteen. How is it October nineteen?” The last she recalled it was the eleventh or twelfth.

“You took a couple of nasty shots to the head. Hopefully, I was able to root around and fix most of the damage.”

Now she remembered. She had woken up lying in the graveyard with her hands and feet bound. Then that asshole in the checkered suit shot her. It all seemed to have something to do with the strange package she was carrying. She had thought that was the end for her, but apparently not. “And I'm...okay?”

“There might be some residual symptoms,” Doc Mitchell added.

“What kind of 'residual symptoms?” While she should have been able to name them herself, she was still having trouble focusing.

“Seizures, headaches, memory loss, dizziness, nausea, loss of fine motor skills, light sensitivity, mood changes, memory loss--”

“--You said 'memory loss' twice.”

“Just testing you. Congratulations, you passed.” He laughed as he gave her a broad smile under his gray whiskers. “What about your name? Can you tell me your name?”

“Yeah...Elizabeth...uh...Beth Evans.”

“Well, Elizabeth-uh-Beth Evans, can't say it's the name I'd picked for ya, but if that's your name, that's your name.”

She groaned at the joke as much as at her headache. “You're a real cut-up, you know that, doc?”

“'Cut-up.' Heh, I'll have to use that one. Good to see your sense of humor is still intact.” From a nearby table, he picked up a mirror and handed it to her. “Let's see if everything is mostly back where it should be.

Looking into the mirror, she did fortunately recognize the face staring back at her. There was a large white bandage covering the right side of her forehead. She nodded and handed the mirror back.

“You should take it easy until that's healed up more,” he instructed. “I've given you a few stimpaks, but unfortunately, they don't do as well on complex systems like the brain and nerves as they do on bone and soft tissue.”

With a grimace, she nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

Standing up, he opened a nearby cabinet and pulled out a syringe. “Here, I can give you some med-x for the pain. Gonna have to be careful with this stuff, though. Standard dose is--”

“--No more than one injection three times daily, at least eight hours apart,” she recited without thinking.

He raised one of his bushy eyebrows. “You have some medical training or are ya an addict?” he asked with suspicion, holding back the syringe.

“I trained to be a vault doctor. Well, halfway, anyway. My training was cut short by...intervening circumstances.” Those circumstances included being chased out of that vault by armed guards, but she didn't feel like delving into all of that.

With a smile, he proceeded to give her the dose of the chem. “Ah, so that Pip-Boy isn't just for show. I myself was once the doctor in residence of Vault 21 over on the Strip. I don't recognize you, so you must've come from some other vault.”

The effect of the injection was almost immediate and the pain began to recede into the background, although not completely. “Vault 101.”

“Never heard of that one.”

“It's back east. Capital Wasteland.”

He whistled. “Goodness. That is a long way. Plenty of former vaulties can't hardly manage to go outside, let alone travel across a whole continent. I'll bet you have some stories.”

The relief from the pain and his understatement made her smile. “A few.”

“Maybe you can tell me one or two later, but for now, you should lie back and try to get some rest. That injection will help you sleep.”

“Thanks, Doc,” she said, lying back down. Unsure of whether it was because of his manner or the chems, she decided he was trustworthy enough. He had taken care of her for this long, at any rate. “I'm not sure if I have the caps on me to pay for all this.”

“Don't you worry about that. My bill has been taken care of and then some.”

Before she thought enough to question that, her heavy eyelids closed and she drifted off to sleep.

 

* * * * *

 

Beth slowly opened her eyes. Her vision was blurry and there was a white light shining in her face that was nearly blinding, but she could feel that she was on a hard metal table. She closed her eyes tightly to try to block out the light, but it was still too bright. The pain in her head was so intense, she felt dizzy and nauseated. It hurt too much to move or even to cry. “ _Am I still alive or is this Hell?_ ”

“Where am I?” she mumbled weakly, hoping someone could hear her.

A stern voice answered, a man's voice she almost recognized, “You're safe. We're taking care of you.”

Then she felt cold steel grasp her arm and the prick of a needle pierce her skin. “Wait, no...” she croaked out, but the injection came anyway. In a moment, everything went black.

 

When she woke again, she was somewhere else. The table had been replaced by a soft, warm bed and the bright light was gone. So was the pain. There was a figure sitting on the edge of the bed next to her, facing away and holding her hand. Seeing the familiar red cap on the person's head, she asked, “Boone? That you?”

Turning to her quickly, the sniper looked relieved as he gave her a warm, yet weary smile. “Hey, you're awake.” His face looked haggard, his eyes dark and tired, like he hadn't slept in days. The aviator shades he normally wore were hanging from the collar of his t-shirt.

“What happened? Where are we?” she groaned, attempting to sit up.

Gently, he put his hand on her shoulder to stop her and she complied. “Take it easy. You've been through a lot. We're in the suite at the Lucky 38. House had you brought here from the New Vegas Clinic.”

“Huh? Why would he do that?” None of this was making sense.

“You were in pretty bad shape, so his bots or whatever fixed you up.”

She rubbed her dry eyes, trying to clear the grogginess. “How did he know where I was?” She didn't remember going to the clinic; she barely remembered leaving Freeside.

“Story for another time, but as much as I hate to admit it, you'd probably be dead if he hadn't.”

This didn't come as a shock to her. The pain had been getting worse and she recognized how how erratic her thinking had become. She had been keenly aware that she had been running out of time. With the level of pain she was in, death hadn't been an entirely unwelcome prospect. Now that she was free of the pain, she was very happy to be alive.

Mouth feeling sticky, she licked her dry lips.

“Are you thirsty?” he asked and she nodded.

Boone carefully helped her sit up and handed her a cup of water. She noticed that he was acting strangely, touching her as if she were made of glass. The water was cool and pure like she hadn't tasted in a long time. She swished it around her mouth to clear out the cottony feeling before she swallowed it and handed the cup back to him. “Thanks.”

“How do you feel?”

“Like I _wasn't_ shot in the head and left in a shallow grave,” she answered with a slight grin. The persistent, sometimes blinding headache that had been there since waking up at Doc Mitchell's house was gone. It felt like a tremendous weight had been lifted off of her. She never thought she'd feel this good ever again. “That's a pleasant change.”

“Let's try to keep it that way.”

“I'll do my best.”

“Well, howdy there, Missy!” came a drawling voice from the doorway, causing Boone to bristle with a grimace.

“Hi, Victor,” she returned, cordially.

“The boss wants you to rest up a couple days and get your sorts back, then you can come see him 'bout this li'l ole Chip business. Alrighty?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Victor wheeled back to his post by the elevator and she looked over at Boone. “That's mighty big 'a him,” she crooned sarcastically in a mocking drawl, rolling her eyes. “I'd say I owed him one if it wasn't his 'li'l ole Chip' that got me shot in the first place. Guess I'll call it even.”

Boone gave a two-tone chuckle of amusement.

Absentmindedly, she ran her fingers through her hair, then stopped and looked confused. She pushed back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her companion helped her to her feet. Looking at him, his face was so weary, she wondered when he had last slept. She walked over to the mirror on the dressing table and saw that her hair had been cut short. “Shit. At least they didn't shave my head.” Fiddling with the tousled pixie cut with her fingers, she made another face. She'd never had her hair this short before. “You think it looks okay?” she asked.

Giving a shrug and clearing his throat, he said, “Looks fine.”

“Not too... _boyish_?” she asked, unsure, turning her head to look at the sides, still pulling at the short strands.

He shook his head and replied casually, “No.” For a second, she thought he was staring at her, but then he looked away. She tugged the hem of her bunched tank-top down self-consciously.

“If you say so,” she responded dismissively with a shrug. Pushing the short bangs back from her forehead, she noticed that the scars from Benny's gunshots and Doc Mitchell's surgery were gone. “ _House must have one hell of an auto-doc_ ,” she thought.

“Glad to see you're awake, but what are you doing out of bed?” came an annoyed voice from the doorway.

She turned to see Arcade standing there with his arms crossed, also looking very tired. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Dr. Usanagi radioed the Fort for assistance with your surgery. We did what we could, but....” He shook his head with a small grimace. “'Victor' let me come with you and wait here while they did...whatever they did.”

Turning to Boone, she said, “Glad they let you come, too.” House hadn't allowed anyone inside the Lucky 38 in two hundred years. Now, not only was she invited in, her friends were, too. It was all very strange.

He looked down. “I...I wasn't there.”

“I made him leave,” Arcade interjected. “He wanted to stay, but I made him go get some rest. Which he clearly didn't do.”

She frowned sympathetically. “Oh, Boone, you really should get some sleep.” Looking to Arcade, she asked, “Is there another bed somewhere?”

He nodded. “Yes, across the hall. Come on, big guy. Two against one.”

Boone stood up and gave the doctor a tired glare. Glancing back to Beth, he paused and it seemed like he wanted to say something. Instead, he just nodded to her and walked to the guest room.

When he saw the sniper go in and shut the door, the doctor turned to his friend. “Back in bed now.”

“I feel fine. Better than fine, actually.” With a broad smile, she gave a little laugh. “I haven't felt this good in a long time. Maybe ever.”

“Indulge me?” He walked over to her and escorted her to the bed. She sat down and he sat next to her. Taking off his glasses, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “So, that 'courier' who was shot in Goodsprings they reported about on the news, that was you?”

“Yeah.”

He looked at her seriously. “I saw you not three days ago and you didn't say _anything._ I'm your friend. More than that, I'm a doctor. I could have helped you before things got that bad.” His tone was measured, but he was clearly angry.

“I'm fine now.”

“Only because Mr. House has some very advanced medical technology, _far_ beyond what the Followers have. Without that, there was an extremely slim chance you were going to survive.”

Fidgeting, she looked down at her hands folded in her lap. Being scolded by Arcade made her feel like a little kid. “I'm sorry. I know you would have tried to help me if I'd asked. The only thing I can say is that I wasn't really thinking clearly.”

“You scared the hell out of me. I know you think you're invincible, but you're not.”

“I never said I was invincible.”

“Yet you insist on taking these dangerous jobs: courier, caravan guard...”

“Travel guard for the Followers,” she added, reminding him of how they met.

“Yes, that, too. We both know you don't take these jobs for the money. You could make as much or more with a safer job in Freeside. Your problem is that you can't sit still.”

She knew he was right. It had been a long time since she stayed anywhere for more than a few days at a stretch. Spending too much time in one place made her uneasy, since it let her thoughts wander into the back of her mind where she didn't want them to go. “I'm sorry I put you through all this.”

He sighed again and put his glasses back on. “I'm just relieved you're alright.”

“Thanks.”

“I know that Craig is, too.” She looked up at him. “I think you should know that he carried you for more than an hour to get you to the clinic. He also hasn't left your side since he got here, despite my continued insistence that he needed rest.”

Unsure of how to respond, she shrugged. “We look out for each other.”

“It's more than that. Are you two... _together_?” He raised his eyebrow suggestively.

With a groan of frustration, she glared at him. “No. You know I'm not the 'relationship' type.”

“Does _he_ know that?”

“We're friends, that's it. And we have a job to do. Period. Besides, he's dealing with his own shit right now. I can guarantee he's not interested.”

“Whatever you say.”

“I mean, maybe he's protective, but that doesn't mean anything.” It came out more defensively than she intended.

“Of course not.”

She grunted in annoyance at his continued obvious suspicion. “Can we drop it, please?”

“Fine.” He stood up. “I'll bring you something to eat in a little bit, but right now, you need to rest.”

“Fine, if it will get you off my back.” Lying back down, she folded her arms over her chest. “There. Happy?”

“Ecstatic.” Reaching across her, he put the covers back over her. Then he switched off the light and exited the room.

Beth stared up at the dark ceiling, not feeling the least bit tired. Thinking back to what he said, she decided that he clearly didn't know what he was talking about. Boone's main interest was avenging his wife by bringing down as much of the Legion as possible. That goal certainly didn't allow for romantic feelings toward anyone. She wished Arcade would focus on his own love life, or lack thereof, and stop worrying about hers.

 


	11. Feeling Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth insists she's fine. Arcade disagrees. Later, she has another meeting with Mr. House.

If the clock on the wall was to be believed, Boone had slept for more than fifteen hours. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up. Feeling sticky and sweaty, he gave his shirt a sniff and wrinkled his nose. He hadn't had a proper bath since Novac and he had been wearing these clothes for at least three days, maybe four. He had been too exhausted to change last night. Knowing that Beth was finally awake and was going to be okay, he had finally been able to relax enough to sleep. Looking down, he saw that he hadn't even taken off his boots. He retrieved his First Recon beret from the bedside table and put it back on his head, then tucked his aviators into his shirt collar.

While he was still worn down, he felt much more rested than before. With a stretch, he stood and walked to the door. As he reached it, he heard Beth's voice on the other side say, “The alternative is that you give me a sponge bath, which I don't think either of us is going to enjoy!”

“I'll get a nurse to come over. You just had major brain surgery. You shouldn't even be standing,” Arcade's voice scolded.

“But I am! I'm fine—look! There's not even a scar!” Her voice was raised in exasperation.

“Stop shouting. You're going to wake Craig.”

Boone backed away from the door. Despite the fact that the argument was coming from a caring and friendly place, it made his stomach turn in knots. Growing up, he had heard far too much fighting from behind closed doors--and opened doors.

He went and sat back down on the bed where he couldn't hear them and waited. After about fifteen minutes, he approached the door again. It was quiet, so he went out into the entryway. The bathroom door was closed and he could hear water running. As he passed the elevator, he noticed that Victor wasn't at his previous post. “ _Good_ ,” he thought.

In the kitchen, he found Arcade sitting at the dining table, drinking from a steaming coffee cup, a sour look on his face. “Hey,” Boone greeted, not sure what to say.

“Hey. If you're looking for Beth, she's taking a bath,” the doctor said, clearly annoyed.

“Okay.”

The cup made a sharp thump as he set it down hard on the table. “I mean, who cares that she just had major brain surgery or that she was on her deathbed only twenty-four hours ago, right? No, she's 'Beth the Invincible.' I'm just a doctor. What do I know?” He threw his hands up in frustration.

The sniper didn't respond. Instead, he walked over to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup. Leaning against the counter, he sipped the hot, roasty liquid.

“Sorry, I shouldn't unload on you like that,” Arcade said in a softer tone. “I'm just worried about her.”

“I know.” He was worried about her, too, but much less so than before. Looking at the doctor, he decided that he liked Arcade. Before, Boone had been so focused on Beth, he hadn't really given the other man much thought. Now he really saw how much the doctor cared about her in an almost brotherly way. After a minute, he asked, “How long have you known her?”

Glancing to the side, he paused in thought for a moment. “About three years, give or take.” He sighed. “I get what you're saying. I should know better than to try to argue with her or slow her down.”

That wasn't what Boone had been trying to say, but he supposed it was correct. “Yeah.”

“I just...seeing her like that back at the clinic...I don't want to see her like that again.” Arcade ran his hand over his face which adorned at least two days of beard growth.

“Me neither.” It was unpleasant to remember. The next sip of coffee went down roughly in his clenched throat. Scratching at his cheek, he felt that he was also rather scruffy.

“I don't even know how she survived two gunshots to the head in the first place. Shear stubbornness, I suppose.” Arcade closed his eyes and sighed, rubbing his hand over his face again. “Does she know who did it?”

“Yeah. Chairman over at the Tops. Benny-something. Had some Khans with him.”

The doctor opened his eyes and looked at the sniper. “So it wasn't just a regular robbery?”

“It was a robbery, but not a regular one, no. She was carrying an important package for Mr. House.” Boone took another sip of coffee.

“Unbelievable,” he said, shaking his head. “That explains why Mr. House took such an interest in her case. Victor was vague about why we were brought here. So I'm guessing Benny wasn't long for this world?”

“He got away, but we have a lead on where he went.” He didn't offer up that Benny was headed to Legion territory. Hearing that a woman he obviously cared about intended to enter the den of a bunch of slavers, rapists, and killers probably wouldn't go over very well with Arcade. Boone wasn't sure how he felt about it, either. What he did know was that he couldn't stop her from going anymore than she could stop him.

“Are you going with her?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Good. Maybe you can keep her out of trouble.”

“Okay, boys. Enough talking about me,” Beth said from the doorway as she walked in. Her short hair was damp and and she was dressed in a clean tank top and jeans. The previous gray pallor of her cheeks was completely gone, replaced with rosy pink. Of the three of them, she looked to be the most healthy and rested. With a furrowed brow, her clear blue eyes looked over at her friends. “No offense, but you two look like hell.”

The doctor didn't look amused. “Okay, you've had your bath. Now you can go back to bed.”

“You look like you need rest more than I do, Arcade. How about this, I'll try to take it easy while you go take a nap. Then when you wake up, I'll let you perform a full neurological exam.”

“Deal,” he said with a sigh. Boone wasn't sure if this was actually a satisfactory compromise or if the doctor was just too tired to argue anymore. With a groan, Arcade stood up and walked wearily to the guest room and shut the door.

Beth stared at the door for a moment then turned back to her companion. “Hey, Boone?” Beth started, stepping towards him. “Um...I wanted to say thank you for getting me to the clinic. That couldn't have been easy.”

Never good at taking thanks or compliments, he shrugged. “It wasn't a big deal.”

“Yeah, it was.” She put her hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eyes. “So, sincerely, thank you.”

“You're welcome. So...are you really okay?”

“Don't you start.”

“Sorry. Just asking.”

She rubbed her forehead. “Yes, I'm okay. Really. But...I guess I am a little foggy and tired.” She pointed her finger at him. “Don't tell Arcade.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“And don't tell him about where we're going, either. That's an argument I _do not_ want to have.”

He nodded. “Yeah, that's what I figured.”

* * * * *

Boone paced restlessly around the lounge area of the guest room, waiting for Beth to get back. Sitting down on the couch and picking up the copy of Milsurp Review on the coffee table, he leafed through it absentmindedly. He'd read it twice already. They'd been cooped up in the suite for three days and he was anxious to get back on the road. A moment later, he heard the elevator ding.

“Where's Arcade?” Beth asked as she walked into the room.

“Went back to the Fort.”

“Thank god! He's been driving me crazy.”

“I could tell.” He liked the doctor well enough, but he was also glad he'd left. Despite the fact that she seemed fine and insisted that she was, he had pressured her to stay in bed most of the time. Even after passing the neurological exam, Arcade still wanted her to rest. The two of them arguing about her condition really got on Boone's nerves. Plus, the inactivity made her agitated and irritable.

She sat down on a chair across from him. “So, I talked to Mr. House. You want to tell me your side of the story?” she asked sternly, putting her feet up on the coffee table.

Setting down the magazine, he looked over at her with a deadpan expression on his face. He knew what she was talking about. “Well...I was letting Victor know that you weren't in any condition to retrieve the Chip.”

“Uh huh. I see.” Her eyebrow twitched. “Did you also tell him that if Mr. House wanted the Chip so badly, he could climb down from his quote, unquote 'ivory tower' and get it himself?”

“Something like that.” He fidgeted uncomfortably, clearing his throat. “I was upset.”

“Did you add that if Victor crossed paths with you again, you would dismantle him and spread his parts all over the Wasteland?”

“Basically? Yeah.” He didn't regret what he said, but he also didn't want to cause any problems for Beth or make her pissed at him. Not usually one for using words to fight his battles, perhaps he had taken things too far.

She crossed her arms. “You know, he wants me to fire you. He thinks you're, let's see, how did he phrase it...'an impetuous brute.'”

Boone paused, not sure of what to make of this. She wouldn't choose Mr. House over him. Would she? Not after everything they had been through together. After nearly losing her only two days ago, she wouldn't just tell him to leave and that would be it.

“What did you say?” he asked.

A genuinely warm smile spread across her face and she gave a throaty laugh that made Boone's heart unexpectedly skip. “Well, first, I informed him that you are not my 'employee,' so I can't fire you,” she said, uncrossing her arms and gesturing to emphasize her words. “Secondly, I told him that if he could find me another veteran First Recon sniper who would work for _no extra pay_ and didn't _ask too many questions,_ I would be happy to conduct an interview.”

He felt reassured, but his face didn't show it. The worry that he would cause her pain, or worse, was still there. The ominous feeling that something was coming for him was still there. The guilt that he was getting too close to a woman who wasn't Carla was still there.

Seeing the look on his face, she laughed with a smirk and sat up. “Hey, you know I'm kidding, right? What's the matter with you?”

Not looking directly at her, he shook his head. “Nothin', I didn't want to cause you so much trouble.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Don't worry about it. You didn't say anything that wasn't true. If he doesn't like it, Mr. House can find himself a new delivery girl and I told him as much. He might be the Big Boss here on the Strip, but he's not my boss and he sure as hell isn't yours. I'm sure he'll forget all about it once he has the Chip.”

He didn't know what to say, so he stayed silent.

“Besides, you were the one who got me to the clinic and your little confrontation with Victor let House know where I was. If it weren't for you, I'd be dead out in the Wastes somewhere. Or more likely, back at The Tops.”

He hadn't thought about it that way. Despite her skills, no, she probably couldn't have taken all four of Benny's armed thugs by herself and even if she could have, she couldn't have carried herself to the New Vegas Clinic. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling of the crushing, cold fear at finding her gone, taken while he wasn't there. It was all too familiar. Had he been there, he would have done everything in his power to stop them from taking her, but that would have been the wrong decision, one that most likely would have killed her if he had succeeded.

With a shrug, he responded, “I've got your back.”

She stood up, took a step toward him, and kissed him on the cheek. “My hero,” she said not at all sarcastically. With a slight flush to her face, she left the room.

“ _What the hell was that?_ ” he thought.

 

“ _What the hell was that?_ ” she thought as she walked to the master bedroom. Not usually in the habit of randomly kissing men, she was unsure of what she had been thinking. Of course she felt gratitude toward Boone for all he had done for her and she had grown to feel quite close to him, even though they hadn't known each other for that long. Spending basically day in and day out together made it seem much longer.

She was starting to wonder how she previously got along without him, no longer having to worry about letting her guard down to sleep or if someone was coming up behind her in a fight. Had he been there that night in Goodsprings, she was sure things would have turned out very differently. She also couldn't help but notice how his muscular form filled out his t-shirt or how nice his ass looked when he crouched down to survey their surroundings.

Then she shook the thought away. There was no time for things like that. They had a job to do. She needed to focus on the mission.

 


	12. The Dark End of the Street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a stop in Goodsprings, the companions encounter a reminder of Beth's past. They then investigate Nipton and find the Legion has taken it over.

They set out from Vegas early, hoping to reach Goodsprings by mid-afternoon. Traveling south on I-15, they had to tangle with a couple of small deathclaws. Beth's grenades and Boone's sniper rifle worked well together. Fortunately, they were able to sneak by the rest of the creatures without detection.

As they walked into the dusty town, she averted her eyes from the graveyard at the top of the hill. If things had been only a little different, she would still be up there. The thought of being buried in the ground forever gave her a strange, suffocating feeling. She had spent the first nineteen years of her life underground, but the vault hadn't seemed like a dark hole, at the time. It was home—or at least, it used to be. Now, even the idea of it felt confining and oppressive.

After coming close to death so many times over the last decade, she should probably be used to confronting her own mortality. This time, however, it hadn't come in the heat of battle or at the hands of a powerful foe. Benny was just some glorified tribal in a bad suit. Yet one moment of weakness was all it took for him to subdue her somehow, tie her up, and drag her to the graveyard; she couldn't even remember what that moment was. Charon had trained her better than that. She could almost hear his voice scolding her for letting her guard down. Of course, he would have also taken issue with her trusting Boone so easily, but he would have been wrong about that.

“You okay?” her companion asked, breaking her out of her thoughts.

She nodded. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

 

They stopped in at Doc Mitchell's so Beth could thank him again and drop off a stash of spare medical supplies. She tried to get him to take some caps as well, which he refused, insisting he'd been paid well enough. He attempted to examine her forehead, but she declined, keeping her hat on and her bangs down to hide the completely healed wound. It was an awkward subject and she didn't want him to feel bad.

Afterwards, they stopped at the Prospector Saloon to talk to Trudy and Sunny. The next morning, they made a stop in Primm so Beth could give her regards to Johnson Nash at the Mojave Express office and give him the status of her last delivery.

In a hidden cache nearby, she picked up some gear she had stashed, including an old set of Desert Ranger Combat armor.

“Where did you get that?” Boone asked as she put on the vest.

“Found it in a cave.” The ranger it had originally belonged to was long dead, but remained a legend among the tribes of Zion.

“Why'd you leave it here?”

“It's not really practical for a courier. Too heavy and conspicuous. Every asshole with a grudge against the NCR or the Rangers attacks on sight.”

“But now that I'm along for the trip, you get that anyway.”

“Yup.”

After changing into the armor, Beth felt much more ready to take on whatever was coming next. She hated wearing the helmet, though, opting instead for sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat to keep the sun off her face. The duster was also far too bulky and warm, so she left that off, as well.

 

As they walked further south, Beth saw something familiar approaching them from down the road. She flung her hand out to stop Boone. A second later, she had her gun drawn and fired twice. The bullets hit something in the distance and it exploded on impact. They jogged ahead to examine the object. On the ground was the remains of some kind of small metallic sphere.

“What is that?” he asked.

“An eyebot,” she said, feeling agitated.

“Huh. Never seen one before. Was it hostile?”

“I don't care if it's playing 'Yankee Doodle Dandy.' It's Enclave, I shoot on sight. The question is, what is it doing out here?” She nudged the casing over with her foot as though the answer would be underneath. Other than a couple of old bumper stickers stuck to its back, there didn't seem to be anything unusual about it. Glancing up at her companion, she saw that he looked puzzled. “What?”

“Nothing. Just that the way you reacted, it's like it was wearing crimson.”

She sighed and thought a minute about how to phrase it succinctly. “Boone...the Enclave, they're _my_ Legion.” Without waiting for his response, she turned and continued walking south with greater determination. “We need to stop at the Mojave Outpost, see if the NCR knows about any Enclave activity in the area.”

“I don't understand. The Enclave was pretty much wiped out decades ago.”

“No, they weren't. They went east to the Capital. That _thing_ might just have been a stray, but the NCR needs to know about it, in case it wasn't.”

“Yeah, you're probably right. Just in case. The last thing the NCR needs is to fight both the Legion and the Enclave.”

As they walked, Beth stayed vigilant, watching for any glint of metal and listening for sounds of music or laser fire. She was grateful that Boone didn't ask about her personal history with the Enclave, yet still didn't treat her as though she were being paranoid. She knew she was justified in her caution. Anyone who had seen the Enclave in action knew that they made the Legion look like children playing at war with sticks and rocks.

 

The site of the two giant ranger figures looming over the desert indicated that they were getting close to the Mojave Outpost. Boone spoke up, “Hey, just so you know, some people in the NCR get pretty agitated when it comes to anyone mentioning the Enclave. It's probably a good idea if we speak to the commanding officer alone.”

“Good thinking. Thanks.”

When they reached the outpost, they immediately went to the NCR headquarters office. Inside, they were greeted by a soldier behind the counter who looked terribly bored. Seeing that they were not NCR personnel, he said, “Caravan, citizen, pilgrim, or--”

“Courier. I have some information and I need to speak to your commanding officer.” She pulled out her Mojave Express passport to verify her identity, but he waved it off.

“Whatever. Just need something for the log book to keep tabs on traffic going through here. Although, not much is getting through right now.” He jotted something down on a notepad and then gestured behind him with his thumb. “Ranger Jackson is in the back, but he's got a lot on his plate, so try to keep it short.”

She nodded in thanks and the companions proceeded into the back. They found a man sitting alone in an office wearing a ranger hat and sunglasses, sporting a dark mustache that reached down to his chin.

“Are you Ranger Jackson?” she asked.

“Yes,” he responded. “What can I do for you?”

“I'm Beth Evans with the Mojave Express. This is Craig Boone, former NCR First Recon. We were traveling south of Primm and encountered an eyebot.”

The ranger appeared unmoved by this. “Uh huh.”

“An eyebot. Like an _Enclave_ eyebot. Are there any reports of Enclave activity in the area?”

Taking off his shades, he looked at her as though she were dangerously stupid. “Ma'am, I haven't heard any reports of Enclave activity _period_ , let alone around here. Maybe it was some other kind of bot.”

“ _Or maybe I'm crazy or making the whole thing up?_ ” she thought, filling in what he was probably thinking. “With all due respect, sir, I know what I saw.”

“Talk to Ranger Ghost. She says there's been some suspicious activity around Nipton. That's all I can tell you. You can find her on the roof of the barracks.”

“Thanks.”

 

Outside and up a rickety makeshift ramp, they found a ranger with skin paler than Beth's was when she was fresh out of the vault. It was clear where Ranger Ghost got her name. The Courier introduced herself and her companion before asking about the suspicious activity.

“Been seeing a lot of smoke around Nipton, but the radio's been quiet,” the Ranger said. “At first, I thought it might be Powder Gangers, but the Legion hit Camp Searchlight just a few days ago.” Her jaw clenched visibly.

“How bad?” Boone asked.

“They fucking irradiated the whole place. Bastards. Lost a lot of good people. Looks like Nipton was their next target.”

Silently, he turned away with an angry grimace.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Beth said, sympathetically, before changing the subject. “This may sound crazy, but we saw a piece of Enclave tech on the road. Maybe it's just my personal bias, but I'm concerned. Have you heard or seen any signs of them?”

“Enclave?” Her mouth twisted skeptically. “No, nothing like that out here. Just Legion and Powder Gangers.”

“Yeah, maybe it was nothing, just a stray bot,” she said, still unconvinced.

“Maybe, but the Enclave isn't anything to sneeze at. I'll keep my eyes and ears open.”

She smiled appreciatively at the ranger. “Thanks. We'll investigate Nipton and see what's going on.”

“Thanks. Just watch yourselves out there.”

* * * * *

They could see the smoke for miles against the clear sky and the smell of it pierced through the air, burning their noses. The Courier hadn't come past here on her way to Novac, instead preferring to cut through the desert to save some time in her pursuit of Benny. Besides, Nipton had always been a hellhole that was best to avoid.

As they approached the town, they could see red banners with bulls on them hung from poles on either side of the road. It was definitely the Legion. Suddenly, a man in a blue jacket and glasses came dashing toward them. The pair drew their weapons, but paused to see what he would do, since he appeared to be unarmed. He certainly wasn't a legionary. Running up to them, he began yelling and hooting in celebration about something he had won.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Beth asked him impatiently.

“The mother-fucking lot-ter-y is what I'm talkin' about! Smell that air! Couldn't you just drink it like booze!” He let out another joyful hoot.

Sure that she wasn't going to get a clear answer, she gestured for him to go on his way, after which he ran off happily into the distance. She turned to her companion. “Do you know what he was talking about?”

Boone shook his head. “No, but if it has to do with the Legion, it can't be anything good.” He reached out and put a hand on Beth's shoulder, looking her in the eye with a grave look on his face. “Are you sure you want to do this? I've seen what the Legion does to towns, to people. This might not be as tame as Nelson. There may be shit in there you can't unsee.”

She put her hand on his. “I'm not expecting it to be easy, but believe me, I have seen more than my fair share of 'shit.' I appreciate you asking, but yes, I'm sure.”

“Alright. Let's do this.”

Carefully, they made their way into town, passing piles of burning rubble and bodies on crosses charred to skeletons. “Fuckin' hell,” she breathed to where only Boone could hear her. He nodded solemnly. They continued up to the main road, and carefully peered around to where they could see crucified Powder Gangers and heads on pikes lining the street. The ruthless brutality of the Legion was on full display.

A group of soldiers stood on the town hall steps, dressed in their distinctive crimson armor, one of them wearing a coyote headdress.

Tapping her on the shoulder, the sniper whispered, “We'll have to play this differently than Nelson, since there's no high ground for me to get a clean shot. Just keep the enemy out of my face and I'll back you up.”

She nodded in agreement. “I'll go around the side, then distract them with a few grenades. You take them out from here when they're distracted. They'll think there are ten of us.”

“Glad I'm on your side.”

Ducking behind the buildings, she moved north toward the town hall. Readying a frag grenade, she lobbed it toward the legionaries. The blast hit three of the them at close-range, sending two flying into the wall behind them and the other back into the dirt. Their exposed legs were shredded by shrapnel. She threw another, bouncing it off the building, so as to roll toward the others from behind, sending them face-first to the ground, their legs and backs bloodied. The rest scattered and began falling to the sniper's bullets.

The sounds of yelling and rapid gunfire filled the street. She could hear the echoes of slower gunfire from where she had left Boone, as he dispatched one legionary after another before they could reach him. The smell of charred wood and flesh mingled with that of gunpowder and fresh blood.

One young recruit saw the Courier and charged with a machete; drawing her weapon and firing quickly, she took him down with two shots in his chest. Red blood spurted from his already crimson armor as he fell to his knees, then down onto his face with a gravely thud. Her heart was beating fast, but her hands were steady and her eyes stayed clear on-mission.

Another legionary came around the side and opened fire on her with a cry of “Profligate bitch!” A bullet tore through her sleeve and into her arm, another hit her armor, but didn't penetrate it. Taking cover quickly on the ground behind some of the rubble, she waited until he got closer, then shot him with two precise shots from her .45 as soon as he came back into view. At such close range, his head nearly exploded with the force of the bullets. Blood and brain matter splattered everything around it, including Beth. She grimaced in disgust.

Then suddenly, she felt someone grab her from behind. One hand gripped her right wrist hard and wrenched it behind her, causing her to drop her weapon; another hand held a knife to her throat.

“I'm disappointed you didn't accept Caesar's invitation, Courier. However, you'll look lovely with a slave collar around your neck,” the man growled in her ear, pleasure in his voice as he pressed his body against her back. Icy fear spread through her as she tried in vain to struggle. As a warning, his knife cut into her neck just deep enough to draw blood, causing her to wince in pain. “Oh, and if you think your pet sniper is going to save you, my men have subdued him. I wonder if he likes to watch. I don't expect you to break easily, but I do so love a challenge.”

She reminded herself to stay calm and focus so she could take the advantage when one was presented. He began to roughly usher her back towards the town hall when she heard a loud bang from behind them. The grip on her wrist faltered and the knife fell from her throat, followed by a heavy thud as the man's body crumpled to the ground. Spinning around, she saw Boone there holding up a handgun, still in the ready position. His lip was split and his cheek was dark red with a fresh bruise. The legionary lay dead at her feet, the back of his head a gaping red maw.

She was still in shock when her companion approached her, tucking his gun into his back waistband. “Hollow points,” he said, stiff and stone-faced. “Didn't want to risk a through-and-through. That's all of them.” Bending down to pick up her gun, he handed it back to her. “You're hurt.”

With a slight tremble to her voice, she replied. “No, I think just a couple grazes. Nothing major.” She holstered the weapon and tried to catch her breath, her heart still beating fast in her chest.

“Your arm's bleeding pretty badly.”

She looked down to see her left sleeve soaked with blood from the earlier gunshot wound. The adrenaline from the battle masked the pain almost completely, so she had hardly noticed. Now that it was receding, she felt the familiar searing in her flesh. “Oh, yeah.” Gently, she rolled up her sleeve to get a look at the damage as she gritted her teeth against the pain. Luckily, the bullet had gone all the way through and she wasn't going to have to dig it out.

“Here, sit. I'll get your pack so you can fix that up.” He led her to a bench behind one of the buildings, thankfully without a view of the Legion's carnage. She took out a handkerchief from her pocket and held it to her arm to slow the bleeding. A minute later, he returned with both their bags and opened hers, taking out her first aid kit. “Let me,” he offered.

“No, it's fine. I can do it.” Out of the kit, she took out a bottle of alcohol and poured some over the wounds with a wince, then used a clean pad of gauze to wipe up some of the blood. Once the wounds were clean, he handed her a stimpak, which she injected just above the gunshot. In moments, the bleeding stopped and the tissues began to mend together. The pain was tolerable, so she didn't think it was necessary to risk taking more med-x. “Are you okay? That legionary told me they had you,” she said, a sliver of fear still in her voice.

“I'm fine.” He put the kit back into her bag. Turning to the legionary that had grabbed her, Boone rolled the body over with his foot. The dead face of both the man and the coyote head stared back at them.

“I know him.” She crouched down and removed the dead man's sunglasses, seeing that his eyes were just as searingly cold now as they were when he was alive. “He's the one who gave me Caesar's Mark outside The Tops.”

Studying his face, the sniper's eyes widened. “Holy shit, that's Vulpes Inculta.”

“Who's that?”

“He's the head of the Legion's intelligence network.”

“I guess he gets around.”

“Not anymore,” her companion quipped with a near smile. “Too bad I'm not still with the army. I'd probably get a medal for this.”

“Does that matter to you?”

He shrugged. “No, not really.”

Reaching up, Beth touched the spot on her neck where the knife had been held. The blood was still wet, but the fresh stimpak had begun to knit the cut.

After composing herself, she and Boone surveyed the area. Walking around the buildings and along the street, she examined each of the crucified men, seeing that they were barely breathing. “They're too far gone. Even if we take them down, they won't survive.” Pulling out her pistol, she solemnly took careful aim and quickly put each out of his misery with a careful shot to the forehead.

The sniper stood back silently. When she turned to him, he gave her a small nod of approval.

“We should look around, see if there are any survivors,” she said. “Maybe someone can tell us what happened here.”

“We know what happened. The fucking Legion happened.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know some of you are going to be pissed at me for having Beth shoot Ed-E. Keep in mind that canonically, the one in the Mojave Express office was found by a courier after it was shot in the desert. Who's to say who shot him? Perhaps he'll make an appearance later.


	13. Remembering September

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The companions hunt down the newly enslaved Powder Gangers from Nipton. Beth more fully realizes the stakes she's playing at going after the Legion. She also learns some of what has been haunting Boone.

The companions entered Nipton's old general store and were surprised to see a man sitting rather calmly inside. His pants were soaked with blood and his legs were twisted at odd angles, as though the bones were broken in several places.

“What the fuck do you want?” he asked before they said anything to him. From his clothing, he appeared to be one of the escaped Powder Gangers from the NCR prison near Primm.

“We were looking for survivors.”

“Well you found one. After the Legion got done, it was just me and that idiot Swanick.”

“I think we saw him running out of town earlier. Wore glasses. Said something about winning some kind of lottery.”

“The Legion doesn't usually leave survivors unless they're up on a cross,” Boone observed.

“Guess we got lucky,” the Powder Ganger said spitefully. “Rounded up the whole town, told us we were all whores and needed to be punished. Then they gave everybody one of these lottery tickets.” He pulled a slip of paper out of his shirt pocket and flung it onto the floor.

Beth picked it up and studied it. It was gold-embossed, bearing the words “Nevada State Lotto” on it. “This looks pre-war. The Legion must have found a stash of these and decided to have some fun with them,” she commented with disgust.

“Oh, they had fun alright. They started drawing tickets to pick who got punished how. First batch got beheaded and their heads put on pikes. Called them the 'lucky losers.' At least those were quick. Second were the crucifixions. Those took fucking forever, beating the shit out of them before they strung them up to die slow.”

Boone backed away and leaned against the wall, listening silently to the man's recount of the Legion's brutality.

“Then the mayor's number came up,” the Powder Ganger continued. “They burned his ass alive on a pile of tires. I swear, fucker was still screaming even after he passed out.”

Beth shivered. While the Enclave was brutal and did some truly horrific things, it was usually from a distance: bombs, poisons, viruses, ranged energy weapons. They kept the illusion of their humanity. The Legion, however, _liked_ getting its hands dirty. It liked killing up-close to see the suffering and the blood, hear the screams, smell the fear. There was no reasoning with that.

“Whatever. He's the one who sold us out to those freaks,” the man added. “The next ones were taken as slaves. When it was only me and Swanick left, they drew my number and told me that the good news was that I got to live. Bad news was that they were going to beat my legs with hammers.” He gestured down to his mangled, bloody legs. “I managed to crawl in here and get some med-x out of a medical kit.”

The med-x explained how he was able to be so composed despite his injuries. “Mind if I take a look at your legs?” she asked. “I have some medical training. I might be able to help.”

“Don't you fucking touch me, bitch!”

Beth heard the wooden floor creak behind her and she looked back at her companion, who had taken a step forward. At her gaze, he took a deep breath and leaned back against the wall again. She nodded and turned back to the Powder Ganger. “Well, there aren't any medical facilities anywhere around here where they could treat you. We could take you to the Mojave Outpost, but I don't know if they even have a doctor there.”

“Oh, fuck no! The NCR would put me back in a shitty cell for the rest of my life. Except this time I'm a cripple. Fuck that. I'd rather die here.”

With a sigh, she reached into her bag and pulled out a small metal box. She handed it to him. “Here, there's enough med-x in there for _whatever_ you want to do.”

“Really?” He looked skeptical and she couldn't blame him, since he had no reason to trust her and she seemingly had no reason to help him. She knew what it was like to be in pain and there was nothing else she could do for him. Besides, she didn't want to have that stuff in her bag anymore.

“Really.” She nodded, hoping Boone wouldn't take note of the fact that she had enough med-x with her to literally kill a man. If he did notice, she hoped he wouldn't ask why.

“Then you're a fucking dream come true.” Snatching the box from her hand, he opened it and counted the syringes.

“You're welcome.” It was sort of a “thank you,” she supposed. “You said some of the ticket-holders were taken as slaves?”

He didn't look up from the box of med-x. “Yeah, they took them off right away. Heading east, if you give a shit. Now, if you don't mind, fuck off.”

“Right.”

 

Upon exiting the store, Beth asked her companion, “Why would the Legion take those men as slaves? Aren't they going to be a lot more trouble than they're worth?”

“They're not going to be work slaves,” he answered. “They'll be toys for the legionaries. Target practice, torture, training for the younger ones to desensitize them. Things like that.” His jaw clenched, making his face tighten. Clearly, he knew far more about the Legion than anyone should.

“Oh. We should go after them. I mean, they're criminals, but they don't deserve... _that_.”

“I guess. We can kill a few more Legion bastards while we're at it, anyway.”

They continued east. As much as they would have liked to rest, time was of the essence if they were going to catch up to the legionaries and captured Powder Gangers before they reached the river. The hottest part of the day was approaching and the water they resupplied with in Goodsprings was running low.

When they found them at a small Legion raid camp, they saw that only three legionaries guarded the two prisoners tied up by the fire pit. Their faces were bruised and one of them had his eyes nearly swollen shut.

Taking position on a rocky hill overlooking the camp, Boone whispered to Beth, “Sit tight. I can take two out before they know we're here, then the third just after. You keep an eye out in case more show up once the shooting starts.”

She nodded in understanding, a bit eager to see the First Recon sniper in action when she wasn't distracted by killing legionaries herself. Just as he said, the first two shots permeated two of their skulls, causing a large spray of blood behind them before they crumpled to the ground. The third stood quickly and looked around, hand to his weapon. He clearly had no idea where the shots came from. Another bullet from Boone's rifle caught him between the eyes and exited through the back of his head, taking whatever last thought he had along with it.

“Impressive,” she commented with a raised eyebrow. “Glad I'm on your side.”

He turned to her and gave a small smirk.

They paused for a couple of minutes while they scanned the area, Beth with her binoculars and Boone with his scope. Satisfied that there weren't any more in the area, they made their way down to the prisoners and untied them. The Powder Gangers ran off into the desert without so much as a thank you, although their rescuers hadn't really expected one. Perhaps if they knew exactly what awaited them on the other side of the river, they would have been more grateful.

The camp itself was sparse and had little in the way of supplies, but she did find some meat skewers that seemed fresh, along with a couple of carrots which would make a decent meal later. She was immensely grateful to find a decent amount purified water, as well.

The two companions proceeded onward, looking for a nearby place to rest. They decided they would stop at the closest ranger station in the morning to report on Nipton's status to the NCR. Since the Legion raiding party was dead, they figured it wasn't pressing. Besides, they were both exhausted.

Spotting an abandoned camper trailer with some sleeping mats, they wordlessly dumped their gear and sat down in the small amount of shade. The trials of the day bore down on them. The spot was hidden from the road, so passing legionaries or raiders were less likely to be a problem.

Boone crossed his arms over his chest. “Pisses me off that Legion slavers can just operate on NCR turf like that. There should be patrols. Checkpoints. What's the point of taking territory if we can't protect it?” Face pinched in frustration, he kicked a rock with his heel and sent it rolling across the dusty sand. “Those bastards are getting brazen, too. They didn't used to come so far west, but now they've attacked both Nelson and Nipton. And what they did to Camp Searchlight?! What's next?”

Beth listened, but didn't respond as she removed her armored vest. The button-up shirt she wore underneath clung to her sweaty skin and she noticed the sniper glance away until she fluffed the fabric loose. There was a slight flush to his face, which she found curious. After a minute, she spoke up, “I just realized I didn't thank you...for saving my ass back there in Nipton.”

“No need to thank me, but you're welcome.”

They stayed silent for a while as she got a fire started to roast the meat skewers and carrots she'd found at the raiding camp. As she worked, she rubbed her forehead absentmindedly.

“You okay?” he asked.

Her eyes fixated on the fire as she poked at it with a stick. “That legionary...I can't believe I let him get the drop on me.”

“ _First Benny, now him,_ ” she thought. “ _What is wrong with me?_ ”

“Vulpes Inculta is—or _was_ the sneakiest son of a bitch in the Mojave,” he reassured her.

“Second sneakiest. You didn't even give him a chance to be surprised. It's more than that, though.” Taking a deep breath, she touched the healed cut on her neck. “He...he wasn't going to kill me.”

“...I know.” There was a gravely quality to his voice, like his throat was constricted.

Of course she knew what the Legion did with their female prisoners. Until that moment, however, with the hand gripping her wrist, the knife to her throat, and the hot breath in her ear, she hadn't really let the possibility sink in. Beth closed her eyes, sighing deeply, then opened them to look at her companion with a steady gaze. “Boone, if they take me...and you can't get me out...”

Before she could finish, she saw the change in his face as a look of anguish washed over him and his breath quickened. Gripping the rocky sand with his fingers, he gritted his teeth with a grimace. For as second, she thought he was going to yell at her, but he stayed quiet.

Then she realized what would make him react that way and her eyes widened. That was why he had so aggressively refused to tell her what happened, how he knew his wife was dead. It was too horrible.

“Oh, god.... _Carla?_ ” she whispered.

Taking a sharp intake of air through his nose, he gave an almost imperceptible nod.

Putting her hand over her mouth, she felt a wrenching in her chest at the thought. “I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to--”

Holding up his hand, he stopped her. “You didn't know.” After a long minute, he put his head in his hands. “I came back that morning from my shift. The house was a wreck and she was gone. Found a Legion coin on the floor....that's how I knew. I headed along the river, figured they had to cross at some point. Thought I could catch up to them.” He cleared his throat roughly. “Found a camp to the southeast, swarming with hundreds of Legion. Through my scope...I saw her.”

Beth listened in continued horror. She couldn't see his eyes, but his brow was furrowed in a grimace and she could hear the pain in his voice.

“They were selling her.” He stifled a sob. “They were selling her and there was nothing I could do. It was just me against all of them. So...I took the shot.”

“Oh, Boone,” she said softly, dropping her hand to her chest. She knew it had to be bad, but she hadn't expected this. Moving to sit next to him, she put her hand on his shoulder. “You did what you had to do.” The words sounded so trite in her ears, but she didn't know what else to say.

Rubbing his hands down his reddened face, he sniffed. “Yeah. What they would've done to her...that's worse than death.” his voice broke and trailed off. “I'd have done anything to save her, but there was nothing I could do. I had no choice. I couldn't stop it. It was always going to play out one way. It still is. I just wish it would hurry up and be done with me.” He sounded so resigned. So defeated.

Her eyebrows drew together in confusion. It was unlike him to speak so cryptically. Did he really think that it was some kind of fate that made that monstrous bitch sell his wife to the Legion? Maybe he didn't have much of a choice, but other people certainly did. “You make it sound like it was inevitable.”

“Because it was. If I'd never met Carla, something else would have happened. I should've never gotten close to her. I should've known better. I should've known something bad would happen. I deserved it, but she didn't.”

“ _What?_ Why would you deserve that?”

“Because fair is fair. You don't do the things I've done and just walk away.” Looking at her through his dark shades, he stated flatly, “You'd better keep your distance.”

It then occurred to her that she might know what he was talking about, but she wasn't sure if she should ask. After everything, maybe it was okay to. Keeping her distance be damned. She wasn't going to let him push her away and retreat back into himself. He might never come out again. “Does this have anything to do with what happened at Bitter Springs?”

He turned to her with his mouth open in shock, but he stayed silent.

“Manny mentioned something about it when I talked to him, but he didn't seem to know much.”

“ _Sometimes people would call us murderers when we'd come to secure towns,_ ” he had said. She also remembered Boone's assertion in Boulder City, that things would go better if he didn't go in with her to meet with the Khans.

“He wasn't there.”

“But you were?” she asked cautiously.

“Yeah, I was there.”

“You don't have to talk about it.”

He stared at her for a moment as though assessing if he should say more. Then he looked away. “We'd tracked a group of Khans that had been hassling some NCR settlements. There was a...miscommunication.”

“...And?”

“Bottom line is we followed orders and people got killed.” His voice was now clear and hardened, more like a soldier and less like a grieving, repentant man. “That's war. Any hesitation, you or yours will die. That's how it is.”

“If you really believed that, you wouldn't think you deserved to be punished.”

“You don't come out of a tour of duty without regrets.”

“Do you think about it a lot?”

Nodding curtly, he confirmed, “Yeah. Always. Even when I sleep.” He kept his face turned away from her.

“I know what that's like. You've seen it. I have things that haunt me, too.”

“It's not the same.”

“You don't know that.” Grasping his hand, she tried to meet his gaze. “Maybe it would help to go back there.”

He jerked his hand away forcefully. “No. It won't change anything. And that's a memory I don't want refreshed.”

“Okay.” Him pulling away like that hurt her feelings, but she reminded herself that this wasn't about her. This was a man in pain who didn't know what to do with it. She wanted so much to help him, like he had helped her, but she wasn't sure how. Moving back to her previous spot by the fire, she pulled off the somewhat burnt skewers and handed him one. They ate in silence.

 

Boone stated flatly that he would take first watch and that Beth should get some sleep. She complied without comment. Seeing the sad look on her face after their conversation made him feel like such an asshole. He knew she was only trying to help.

As he sat there staring at the fire, he regretted opening up to her, especially about Bitter Springs. He wished he had just told her to drop it when she brought it up. The memory played over in his mind every day, but except for the debriefing afterward, he hadn't talked to _anyone_ about what had happened there--not to Manny, not even to Carla. Being with Carla had a way of making him forget, but now it was all boiling up to the surface and he didn't know why.

There was still more, though. So much more. The details of the battle—no, _massacre_ —were still so vivid. He could practically hear the gunshots and people screaming, smell the gunpowder and blood. How could he tell Beth? How would she ever understand? He didn't even fully understand. Would she recoil from him in disgust? Or fear? He didn't want to see that.

Another dark thought passed through his mind that he had tried not to focus on before: what if the Legion did take her? A hard lump rose in his throat at the thought. She was one of the strongest people he'd ever met, but even she felt that death was preferable to being enslaved. If it came to it, would he be able to kill her out of mercy, too? After everything? After Carla? He didn't think he could. He didn't even have it in him to put down those crucified Powder Gangers in Nipton. Beth had done it on her own and he was grateful for that. To do that to her now, it would take more than he had left in him. To pull the trigger and see the bullet go through her...it was too much. Not again.

He regretted letting himself get close to her. Just like with Carla, he should have known better. Even if Beth was just a friend, he cursed himself for letting it get this far. He had saved her life and he didn't regret that, but anything beyond that was dangerous. How many times had he reminded himself that getting close was a bad idea?

For her sake, he knew it would be better for her to go. She should forget about him, forget about Benny, and go back to the Lucky 38 or to the Followers in Freeside where it was safer. He knew she wouldn't, though. Right after he told her to keep her distance, she'd pressed further and he'd let her. The truth was that he didn't really want to push her away, despite how selfish that was.

Then he remembered something: “ _To move forward, you have to go backward. Trust the stranger who is not a stranger._ ” Looking over at his sleeping companion, curled up under the desert ranger duster, he realized that it could have been referring to her. It hadn't occurred to him before, since he had been so focused on the rest of what the kid at the 188 had said about blood and ghosts. When she came to Novac, he trusted her to help him because she wasn't from there, a stranger, but they were well acquainted now. Even though he'd dismissed the idea originally, he thought about what she'd suggested. Maybe she was right about going back, to move forward.

Lost in thought, he stared at the fire. When the embers died down, he added more wood to keep it going. Coyotes howled in the distance, but nothing got close enough to bother him as the moon moved across the starry sky. Looking up at it, he was momentarily reminded of night fishing out on his grandfather's boat. It was strange. He hadn't thought about that in years.

The clock on Beth's Pip-Boy chimed, startling Boone out of his thoughts. Apparently, she hadn't trusted him to wake her for her turn at watch. He supposed that was fair, since he wasn't keeping track of time and had no intention of switching shifts anyway.

Pulling the heavy duster over her shoulders, she got up and sat across from him on the other side of the fire pit, her eyes still wilted from sleep.

“I've been thinking about what you said,” he spoke up.

“Oh?”

“I think maybe you were right about going to Bitter Springs.”

“Really? What made you change your mind?”

“Nothing. Just tired of thinking about it.”

“We'll head out first thing in the morning.”

He hadn't meant for them to go right away. “It's a good ways north from here. What about Benny?”

Pausing for a moment, she answered, “This is more important.”

That surprised him. Only a few days ago, going after Benny had been the most important thing to her, more important than even her own life, it seemed. Now, she was offering to go in the opposite direction and possibly lose her chance at revenge. “You're sure?”

She nodded. “I'm sure.”

“I hope this isn't a mistake.”

 


	14. Time Has Told Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth accompanies Boone to Bitter Springs where they encounter the Legion, but it doesn't end how the sniper expects. They both learn things about each other that may threaten their newfound closeness.

“Christ,” Boone breathed as they walked through the canyon lined with dirt mounds and wooden crosses. “They put the graveyard here.” This was more words than he had spoken at a stretch in the last two days. Beth hadn't pressed him, figuring he would talk when he was ready.

“You sure you're ready for this?” she asked.

“No, but we're here. I want to see this through.”

They continued on. She had expected the place to be deserted, but Bitter Springs had been converted into an NCR refugee camp after the Khans were driven out. The area was filled with canvas tents and rickety corrugated metal shacks that barely provided shelter. There were refugees in ragged clothes and a couple of NCR troopers patrolling around, looking tired and demoralized. Up on the hill, the NCR had set up command and medical tents. The flag with the two-headed bear was flown upside down--a very old signal of distress, Beth recalled from some book she read a long while ago.

“This is the place,” he spoke up again solemnly. “A large troop of us was sent out from Camp Golf after a group of Khans that had been attacking an NCR settlement. We tracked them here to what we thought was a raiding camp, but...this was their home. Over there.” He nodded toward a spot to the south. “That's Coyote Tail Ridge where we set up.”

Walking on together, she saw that several of the tents had painted images on the sides. One depicted a rider on a horse shooting a bow, below which read “GO HORDE.” Another had a face with a helmet and horns that stated “DEATH BEFORE SURRENDER!” and another with “FLAIL OF GOD.” It was all very unsettling and she wondered why the NCR hadn't painted over what were obviously Khan war symbols. Didn't they scare the children?

After following her companion up onto the ridge, she looked over the landscape to see the sparkling water of Lake Mead with the massive Hoover Dam at the far end. A collection of trailers and campers sat rusting near the shore. Before the Great War, this had been a recreation area, a desirable place to be. Now, it was for those with nowhere else to go.

“Back where we came in, that's where the main force attacked,” Boone said, snapping her out of her thoughts. “The canyon down there was the Khan's only escape. Orders were to shoot on sight.”

“What happened?”

He stared down into the canyon. “Not what we expected. The Khans spotted the main force early and started fleeing through here. But it wasn't just raiders. Women, kids, elderly. Wounded started coming through, too. Dhatri radioed to confirm our orders, but command didn't understand what we were seeing. Radio signal was too spotty. Standing orders were to shoot until we were out of ammo.” He sighed. “So that's what we did.”

Beth was stunned. If she hadn't heard it from his own lips, she wouldn't have believed it. Boone didn't seem at all like the type of person she would have expected to do such a thing. After everything he had done for her and all they had been through, she had grown to trust him almost implicitly, but now she wondered how much she really knew about him. “How could you kill innocent people like that?”

He grimaced at her words. “With the Khans, any of them can be dangerous. They teach their kids to shoot at NCR civilians almost as soon as they can hold a gun. And...we had our orders. Still, I don't know. I often ask myself the same thing.”

She didn't know what to say. She knew the Khans were a violent tribe of chem-slinging raiders who liked to think that they were somehow more honorable than the Fiends they supplied. Regardless, that didn't justify such an act. And why hadn't she heard more about this, even after being in the Mojave for the last three years? Did the NCR cover it up or did no one care? From his words and the look on his face now, it was clear that Boone did care. He was haunted by it.

Then she thought back to Boulder City, how she had left Jessup and the other Khans to their fate at the hands of the NCR. If she had it to do over again now, she wasn't sure if she would make the same choice or not. They certainly had no regard for her life, but without the pain, her fury towards them seemed to have largely subsided. Despite how angry she had been, however, she knew that if there had been children and other innocents, there was no way she would have let the NCR hurt them.

“Anyway... I don't know why we're here,” he said with a sigh. “I don't know if this is helping anything. I'd like to stay here for the night. Think some things over.”

“Okay. We can stay.”

“Oh...okay.” He sounded surprised, as though he hadn't expected her to agree. “We won't stay for long.”

* * * * *

Boone couldn't sleep. He just kept staring into the dark canyon, hoping for some feeling or revelation, something to help it all make sense. When he had told Beth he wanted to stay the night, he hadn't meant it as a request, but more as an opportunity for her to leave him here. Instead, she surprised him by readily agreeing to stay with him, despite what she had just learned about him, what he had done.

“ _I don't deserve a friend like her,_ ” he thought.

Then from the southwest, he heard dogs barking. Picking up his rifle and looking through the scope he saw a large group of men marching toward them with a pack of dogs. They appeared to be heading around to the main entrance to the camp. Even with only the predawn light, he could see their helmets and the color of their flags. “ _Shit!_ ”

“Beth!” Boone whispered urgently to her as he shook her shoulder. “Wake up!”

Startled, she sat up quickly and whispered back, “What's wrong?!”

“Legion raiding party coming our way. _It's big._ Might be too big, even for us.”

“Why would they come here?” she asked, blinking away the sleep.

“Easy target for grabbing slaves. Bunch of weak refugees, kids, just a few soldiers defending it. I doubt they tracked us here.”

Buckling on her holster, she pulled out her .45 and double-checked the magazine as she stood. “What are we waiting for?

“Tell the truth, I think this is exactly what I've been waiting for.”

“We need to warn the NCR soldiers and get the refugees to safety.” Beth ran on toward the main part of the camp with Boone running up behind her, rifle in his hand.

There was too much cover among the makeshift shelters and the hillside was too exposed for Boone to find a sniping spot. He watched as his companion led a small child to a hiding place behind a metal shack and then told him to stay down.

Seeing two NCR troopers approaching him, Boone ran up to them. “Legion raiding party coming. Alert the rest of the troops. Get the refugees to safety up a the command tents!”

The soldiers look alarmed at his words and they both nodded. “Yes, sir!” they replied in unison, seemingly eyeing his beret. With that, one ran up to the command tents. The other ran to a group of sleeping refugees to alert them.

Boone signaled to Beth that he was going around the other side and she nodded in understanding. She then weaved between the tents, creeping to where they could now hear the raiding party approaching. They would come at the enemy from both directions.

He suddenly heard a voice crying out for help with piercing, terrified screams. Peeking out from behind a makeshift shelter, he saw a legionary gripping a struggling woman, attempting to restrain her by tying ropes around her wrists. The sniper aimed carefully so as not to hit her and he put a clean shot through the side of the slaver's head, nearly taking it off his shoulders. The woman screamed again at the sound of the gunshot, but when the grip on her wrists loosened, her loud cries devolved into choked sobs. Turning to the source of the shot, her lips moved in an attempt to speak.

“Run!” Boone yelled to her, pointing toward the command tents. That seemed to snap her out of her shock and she ran quickly in the direction he instructed.

From behind the shelters to his left, he heard two gunshots and then a yelp of pain that sounded like a dog. He didn't like being separated and out of sight Beth in battle. Without being able to see her, he could only hope that she was okay.

One of the Legion mongrels spotted him and charged him from behind. It growled, then lunged as Boone turned, but before the mutt could clamp his jaws around his leg, there came the sound of several gunshots and the dog's side erupted in sprays of blood and fur, sending the creature limp to the ground. He expected to see Beth when he turned around, but instead, there stood a young NCR recruit. The kid had a strange panicked smile on his face. Behind him, a woman and a girl in tattered clothes were cowering under a rickety lean-to.

“Good shot. Now, get those refugees to safety! Up there!” the sniper ordered, pointing to the frightened people, then to the command tents. The recruit paused as though he wasn't sure if he should heed those orders. “NOW!”

At that, the kid nodded and reached out to usher the refugees to safety. After taking a quick look around to make sure there was a clear path, he lead them up the hill and out of sight.

Just when Boone thought the last of the legionaries had been taken out, he heard Beth's voice yelling from the distance behind him, “Boone! There's more! From the south canyon!”

He ran toward her voice as he reloaded his rifle. Seeing her ahead, he felt a pang of fear for her safety and he ran faster. He was able to catch her before she reached the second wave of legionaries. From their vantage point, they could clearly see several legionaries and more mongrels moving through the canyon. Grouped like this, Beth was able to fatally cripple half a dozen of them with a well tossed grenade. After that the companions prioritized the most heavily armed soldiers first: those with guns. Three of them fell to Beth and Boone's practiced shooting before they were aware of where the shots were coming from. The remaining legionaries were only armed with melee weapons and were unable to reach their attackers before they too succumbed to bullets. The final shots were for the mongrels, who were growling and scratching fruitlessly at the steep hillside, unable to climb up.

A moment later, they heard screaming, gunfire, and the sound of more dogs barking back towards the camp. Together, they sprinted toward the source of the sounds and found a third wave of legionaries attacking. They were tearing open tents and looking behind shacks, but most of the refugees were already hiding up at the command tents.

Beth skirted along the canyon wall on the left as Boone took cover behind some debris, waiting for more to come into view. He took aim through his scope from a distance and was able to shoot two of the legionaries unawares as they searched for potential captures. This alerted three more, as well as the small pack of dogs they had with them.

An NCR soldier came out from behind cover and shot at the group of legionaries, hitting one in the shoulder. This only seemed to make him angry and he shouted something in Latin. At his word, one of the dogs broke from the pack and charged at the soldier, who attempted to shoot the mongrel before it reached him. In his terror, however, he was only able to wing the creature's side, which did not slow it down. Boone attempted to take aim at the dog, but crates were blocking him from getting a clear view. A second later, he saw the dog lunge, knocking the soldier to the ground and out of sight. The soldier screamed as the dog growled. Then the screaming stopped and the dog ran back to its master, its muzzle dripping with blood. Before the dog reached him, the sniper put a bullet through the dog's head, dropping him instantly. He then took aim at his master, shooting him through the side of his head, as well. Blood and brain matter shot out the exit wound and the legionary collapsed to the ground.

The two remaining legionaries turned and started charging toward his position. Boone ducked down behind cover. The popping sound of rapid fire echoed off the walls of the camp and he could hear the bullets whizzing above his head. When the gunfire paused, he peeked out and readied his rifle. The legionary with the gun was reloading a new clip, but before he could finish, the sniper aimed and shot him in the chest. The man staggered and slowed, but didn't fall. Boone fired twice more, tearing through the legionary's armor, finally making him fall to the dirt. A red pool spread over the ground beneath him.

By this time, the other two legionaries wielding a machetes had almost reached him, but before Boone could aim again, three quick shots hit one of the slavers in the back. The weapon fell from his hand as he dropped to his knees, then slumped to the side. The other legionary turned to find the shooter, which gave the sniper ample opportunity to aim and fire at the back of his head. He dropped in an instant. Looking up, Boone saw Beth crouched down behind a tent. They nodded to each other before she continued toward the rest of the raiding party while he picked off stragglers from a distance.

When the fighting was finally over, she jogged back to him and holstered her gun. He was relieved that she seemed unharmed. “I think that's all of them,” she said, leaning against a post with a long sigh of fatigue, wiping sweat and blood spatter from her face. “Are you hurt?”

Boone shook his head. “No. You?”

“Just a graze or two. Nothing major.” There was a small bloody tear in her pant leg and another near her shoulder.

“Casualties?”

“At least two of the refugees, from what I saw. One of them had a small knife. I don't know if if he was trying to fight them or what. Poor bastard.” She shook her head.

“Saw one soldier taken down by one of the mongrels.”

“Shit. Um...I'm going to go check on that kid and the rest of the refugees. Make sure everyone else is okay. Why don't you go get our bags from the ridge?”

With a nod, he turned and walked up toward where they had camped. He was grateful she gave him a chance to be alone for a few minutes to think. Sitting down on a rock, he stared back down into the canyon where so much blood had been spilled, innocent and otherwise.

He couldn't believe that he had made it through not only alive, but basically unharmed. The second he saw the raiding party, he'd been sure that this was where the remainder of his debt would finally be paid. It would have made sense. But no. The current threat may have been over, but the rest of his punishment was still coming.

At this point, he almost didn't care what it did to him as long as it didn't hurt Beth.

 

* * * * *

 

“Mother-fucking cazadores!” Beth spat as the last one fell to the ground. Blood seeped out of a puncture wound in her shoulder and she grimaced against the pain. “Worse than the fucking Legion.” Pulling a vial out of her bag, she cracked it open and drank it, making a disgusted face at the bitter liquid. “One useful thing about the Legion, they carry plenty of antivenom. Couple more raiding parties and I'll have enough to take on as many of those venomous bastards as the desert can throw at me.” Holding her shoulder stiffly, she took out a stimpak and injected it next to the open wound with a wince. “Ahhh...son of a bitch.” she breathed. The venom still stung, but the worst of the pain was beginning to subside. She picked at the hole in her shirt, figuring she could stitch it up later.

“You okay?” Boone asked.

“Yeah, I'll be fine. They get you?”

He shook his head.

The boathouse was now clear of the insects and they could breathe easier knowing the Bitter Springs refugees would be safe if they wandered down here. After fighting off the Legion raiders that morning, they saw how ineffective the NCR was in their ability to keep the area safe, so taking care of this problem fell on them.

Following her outside to the end of the dock, he stayed silent as they sat down. Beth took off her boots and socks, then rolled up the legs of her pants to her knees, letting her feet dangle in the cool water of the lake. Boone kept his boots on and folded his legs in front of him.

Gazing over at her companion, she saw that his face was still troubled. “You okay?”

He grunted.

“Want to talk about it?” she asked gently.

He sighed, taking off his aviators and running his hands down his face. “Made it through today with barely a scratch. Not sure what to make of that.” Glancing back at the camp, he shook his head. “It would've made sense for things to end here, but they didn't.”

“Maybe it's just not your time.”

“So, what, being jerked around is part of my punishment?”

“Boone, that's not how it works. People don't always get what they deserve in this world, good or ill. You can't undo what you did, but you don't have to let it define your entire life. You can follow a better path.”

“Even if I do, a murderer who does good deeds is still a murderer,” he said flatly.

They sat on the edge of the dock, looking out over water as the sun began to set behind them. After thinking for a few minutes, she pulled her .45 out of its holster and studied it, tracing her finger over the inscription on the side. “Does the name Joshua Graham mean anything to you?”

“No, it doesn't” he responded absentmindedly.

“What about...the Malpais Legate?”

Boone's eyes widened as he turned to look at her. “What the hell does he have to do with anything?”

Examining the gun in her hands, she continued, “About a year ago, I was on a caravan guard job that took me out to Utah, headed for New Canaan. When we reached Zion, we were ambushed by some tribals trying to make a name for themselves with the Legion. Half of our group was dead before we even realized what was happening. I was the only survivor.” She sighed, the memory stirring up old feelings of guilt. “Afterward, I met a member of a different tribe, the Dead Horses, and he brought me back to their camp. That's where I met _him_. Myth, legend, man, all of it.”

“I thought Caesar had him executed.”

“He did. For his failure at the Battle of Hoover Dam, Caesar had him covered in pitch, set on fire, and thrown into the Grand Canyon. Overkill, if you ask me, but it didn't take. He survived.”

“How?” he asked skeptically.

“According to him, it was 'love' that saved him. The love of his people. The love of God.” She scoffed with a shrug. “Personally, I think some people are just harder to kill than others.”

“You'd know something about that.”

Giving him a smirk, she continued. “Right. Anyway, I was different then. The Wasteland had turned me into a bitter and cynical person. I'd lost so much, seen so much death. Life outside the vault was just about surviving. Surviving as I watched those I cared about die. There seemed no point to any of it.”

“Doesn't sound like you. What changed?”

“A lot of things. Going there, seeing that beautiful place, helping the tribes there defend their home, seeing that things I did mattered. But...I think a lot of it was talking with Joshua.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Boone looked disgusted at the idea. “How could he bring anything good to anyone?”

She set the gun down on the dock next to her. “I don't know how much you know about his history, but he wasn't always a legate. He was originally a missionary, a man of God, but he let himself turn into a monster, little by little, choice by choice.”

“I don't see what this has to do with me,” he said, his voice sounding increasingly irritated.

“Talking with him, then thinking about it over time, I realized I didn't have to let myself turn into someone I didn't want to be. It was _my_ choice. I bring this up to you because if someone like him has been given a chance by God, or karma, or whatever, then you deserve a chance, too. You don't have to make what happened here, what you did, turn you into someone _you_ don't want to be.” Reaching out, she grasped his hand and gazed at him with earnestness. “I know you. You're a good and decent man who is haunted by a terrible mistake he made, but that doesn't mean you don't have any choices now. This doesn't have to be the end for you.”

“I tried to leave it all behind me, but none of it made any difference in the end.”

“You think the bad things that happen around you are some kind of punishment, but Carla isn't dead because of what you did here. She's dead because of true monsters like Jeannie May and the Legion. And if something happens to me, that won't be your fault either.” She squeezed his hand in desperate sincerity as he looked back into her eyes. “I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. The good we've done together wouldn't have happened. All that we will do. You want to make up for what you've done, but you dying isn't going to do that. It's not going to be that easy.”

His shoulders slumped and he nodded slightly. “Still feels like I'm living on borrowed time. But I guess I don't see any reason not to take a lot more of those Legion sons of bitches with me in the meantime.”

She wasn't really satisfied with that answer, but figured it was the best one she was going to get from him right now.

“You still want to stick with me, even after knowing all this?” he asked.

“Yeah, I do. I think you're worth it.” She squeezed his hand again. After a few minutes, she let go and stood up. “Ugh, I'm exhausted. I think I'm going to find a spare bedroll and get some sleep.” She slipped her bare feet into her boots and pushed the cuffs of her pants down her damp legs, then picked up her socks and stuffed them in her pocket.  
“Okay.”

“You coming?”

“Yeah, I've done enough thinking for today.” He stood with a sigh and they hiked together back to the camp.

 


	15. Hopeless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The companions travel to Camp Forlorn Hope to get some assistance for Bitter Springs, but find that the conditions there are even more dire.

Beth spoke to Captain Giles and she confirmed that Bitter Springs was in desperate need of reinforcements, although the Legion attack the previous day had already made that glaringly obvious. The companions headed south to Camp Forlorn Hope to see if they could spare some soldiers.

After talking with Major Polatli and others there, though, they learned that it was in even worse shape than Bitter Springs. In addition to being undermanned, they were short of basically any supplies one could think of: food, medicine, armor, and even ammunition. Only the clean stream flowing through the camp saved them from also being short of water.

Clearing the Legion out of Nelson a few weeks ago had only taken a small amount of pressure off. Raiding parties were still frequent and most of the soldiers seemed to think it was only a matter of time before the Legion wiped them all out for good. Being this close to the front lines, Boone couldn't believe that the NCR had let things get this bad here. How could they possibly expect to hold back the Legion, let alone defeat them, without adequately feeding and equipping their army?

Beth spent the afternoon helping the NCR's doctor tend to some wounded soldiers. Boone took a young trooper out to track down some missing supplies; they returned as night fell, sweaty and dirty. The trooper thanked him for his help and left him to deliver the supplies they had recovered.

The sniper found the Courier sitting outside the medical tent with a man, both in bloodied clothes, drinking from bottles of Sunset Sarsaparilla. As he walked up, she smiled wearily. “Hey, Boone. This is Doctor Richards,” she said, pointing her thumb toward the tired looking man next to her. “He's the NCR army doctor stationed here. Alex, this is Craig Boone. He was with--”

“First Recon,” the doctor interrupted. “Good to see ya, Boone.”

“Same, Doc,” the sniper greeted.

“I see you two know each other,” Beth said.

“Richards was one of the medics at the Battle of Hoover Dam. Patched up some buddies of mine.”

The doctor nodded and said, “Hey, thanks for bringing your doctor friend here along.”

Beth spoke up, “I told you, I'm not a doctor.”

“Close enough. I would have been up to my neck in there without you.”

Boone knew the feeling.

“Glad I could help.” She finished the last of her soda and pushed herself off the ground. “I need to get cleaned up and out of these clothes. If you need me at all later, let me know.”

The doctor nodded to her in thanks. She walked away toward the stream, her companion following beside her.

Seeing her face, Boone noticed that she seemed more dispirited than he would have expected after helping to save some people's lives. “You okay?”

Letting out a heavy sigh, she stopped and looked at him. “Two of those boys are going to make a full recovery. Another had a bad infection and we had to amputate his arm and leg.”

He put his hand on her shoulder in reassurance. “It happens. It's not your fault.”

“Actually, what I was thinking is that he may be the lucky one. At least he gets to go home now. The other two...there's a good chance they won't see home again.” She continued walking, stopping at the stream to wash off her hands and face. “Did you find the supplies?” she asked as she shook the excess water from her fingers.

Bending down next to her, he took off his aviators and splashed some water on his face. “Yeah, but the Legion had ambushed the troopers transporting it. Almost got us, too.”

Turning quickly, she looked at him with concern. “Almost got you?!”

“We're okay. Nothing I couldn't handle.”

Her face pinched in frustration. “I didn't know things were this bad. I don't think most people know. Back in the NCR, everyone probably thinks everything is going great out here, but it isn't. People are dying. Good people. And a lot more are going to before this is all over.”

As was often the case, Boone didn't know what to say. He had seen war and the toll it took on people. This was different, though. Beth was a unique person, both optimistic and realistic at the same time. He hated to see her so dejected, but he couldn't really argue with what she was saying.

 

 

As they walked through the camp, a young female soldier with dark red hair jogged up to them. “Excuse me, Courier?” she said.

“Uh...yeah?” Beth replied with uncertainty.

“I'm Tech Sergeant Reyes. I heard that you've been helping out with things around here and that you kicked the Legion out of Nelson.”

“Yeah, _we_ did.” She nodded to Boone.

“I was wondering if you would do me a favor.”

“Okay. Maybe. What is it you need help with?”

Boone stood behind her and listened, as he usually did when someone approached Beth for a favor. Most people seemed to largely ignore him, which he didn't mind. He had been one of the many people who had asked her for help, which she had quickly agreed to. While he had thought that he trusted her entirely because she was a stranger, maybe that wasn't the whole reason. Maybe there was just something about her that attracted people in need.

“I'm in charge of communications and compiling reports for here, Camp Golf, the Ranger Stations, as well as for the brass at McCarran. I've been noticing some inconsistencies between our numbers and our reports, especially in regards to enemy sightings. Something isn't right. Either the reports are wrong or our radio security has been compromised and the enemy is intercepting our transmissions. I've made new radio security codes, but command won't allocate the resources to have them delivered to the Ranger Stations.”

“So that's where we come in.”

“Yes. When you get close to a Ranger Station, if you'd give them the new codes, I'd really appreciate it.”

“Sure.” Beth fiddled with a couple of switches on her Pip-Boy and Boone could see she was looking at her map. “We'll be passing by a couple of Ranger Stations in the next week or so. We'll be sure to make a stop.”

“Great. Show this to the comm officer at each station.” The sergeant handed over a holotape, which Beth took. “Thanks for this. Glad that someone is taking me seriously.”

“You're welcome.”

“We've also been getting some strange reports from some of the stations. I was hoping you could inquire about them when you're delivering the codes.”

“What kind of 'strange reports'?”

“Unusually high casualties, Super Mutant Legionaries. It doesn't make a lot of sense. Here.” She handed over a piece of paper. “I've written some of them down, along with the station that reported them.”

Beth took the paper and glanced over it. “Khans with trained deathclaws.” Boone noticed a strange seriousness to her voice, despite how ridiculous that concept sounded.

“That's what they said. Anyway. Thanks again for doing this.” The women nodded to each other and the sergeant walked back toward the command tent.

“What's up?” Boone asked. “You think the Khans could actually train deathclaws?”

“No...” she said, still looking at the paper. “Why would someone report something like that?”

“Maybe they were out in the sun too long or were high on chems.”

“Maybe. It just makes me uneasy. I've seen that sort of thing before. Controlled deathclaws.”

“What? Where?”

She looked up at him gravely. “Back east,” she said, her voice hushed.

His eyes widened. “Oh. They... _they_ had trained deathclaws?!” he asked also keeping his voice low. He wasn't about to say the word “Enclave” within earshot of a bunch of already stressed NCR soldiers.

“Yeah, they controlled them with some kind of tech, though. The Khans don't have that kind of capability. But if it was... _them_ , I doubt the deathclaws would be one of the first signs of them.”

“No, I don't think so either, but something really isn't right here.”

“It really isn't. We'll be sure to investigate as we go.”

He nodded in agreement.

 

* * * * *

 

After they both privately changed into fresher clothes, they ate dinner from what they had in their packs, and then retired to an unoccupied tent with a couple of spare bunks. They were grateful not to have to spend another night sleeping on the ground. Beth flopped down on one of the dusty beds and stared up at the canvas ceiling.

Boone sat down on his own bunk on the opposite side of the small tent, then spoke up, “Hey, um...I wanted to thank you for bringing me to Bitter Springs. Things seem clearer now.”

“I'm glad.” A few moments later, she looked over at him. “Did you ever talk to Carla about...all that?”

He shook his head. “No. I wanted to. I just couldn't.”

“So, why talk to me?”

It was a good question, one he didn't really have a complete answer to. He shrugged. “I don't think I would have if you hadn't brought it up. At first, I kind of regretted telling you. But then, once I thought about it more,...it just seemed like it was time. Guess I needed a push.”

With hesitation, she asked, “Um...the stuff about Joshua Graham...is that a problem?”

Pursing his lips, he replied gruffly, “I don't know. I've been trying not to think about it.”

She sat up. “Listen, I helped him fight those Legion-wannabe tribals because I knew it was the right thing for the other natives there, the Sorrows and the Dead Horses. They were good people, innocent. I didn't want them to lose their lives or their home. Yes, I did talk to Joshua Graham, but I didn't forget who and what he was.”

Boone gritted his teeth. “Fucker deserves to die for the things he's done. Without him, there may not have even _been_ a Legion.”

“I don't disagree, but the tribes of Zion depend on him. Also, keep in mind that other than taking Hoover Dam, the thing Caesar probably wants most is for Joshua Graham to be dead. His continued existence is an affront to his authority.”

“Maybe you have a point, but I still don't like it.”

She cast her eyes down, seemingly unsure how to respond.

The silence hung heavy in the air for several minutes before he broke it. “So what's the deal with that gun of yours?” he asked abruptly, looking at the holster sitting on her pack. From the moment she recovered it from Benny's suite at The Tops, he had noticed she had a particular attachment to it. Then last night by the lake, she was studying it right before she brought up the Malpais Legate.

“It was a gift.”

“From _him_?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Yes.”

“Why did he give that to you?” Even though he couldn't hide the disgust on his face, he tried not to sound too suspicious or judgmental, but he wasn't sure he was succeeding. Tact had never been one of his strong suits.

“I stopped him from executing the enemy tribal leader in front of the Sorrows and Dead Horses. I didn't think that they needed to see such a brutal thing, since they had already seen too much death that day. I also didn't think it would be good for Joshua...afraid it might wake up the monster inside. He saw that I was right and later gave the gun to me as a thank you.”

She sounded forthcoming, but her words didn't do much to put him at ease. “Strange 'thank you' gift,” he commented tersely, still staring at it.

“Strange gift from a strange man.”

“Why did you keep it?”

“I keep it to remind me of who _I_ am, what I learned about myself in Zion. That I don't have to go down any path that I don't want to. I know how it must seem, but I don't keep it because it was from him.”

“You think that a monster like that can really redeem himself?”

She paused, then shook her head. “No. I don't.”

“What? Isn't that what you said last night?”

“No. I said he had been given a second chance, but I personally think he's too far gone. The pain of his burns keep him tame, like a beast in a cage. Take those away...” She shook her head with pursed lips. “I don't know. He claimed to be seeking redemption, but his words were hollow. Anyone who knows anything about it knows that God only forgives those who are truly repentant. Like you.”

Boone's previous look of disgust softened somewhat into pensiveness. His eyes met hers and he stared at her for a moment, unsure of what to say.

Dropping her shoulders, she let out a long breath and said, “I know that if you knew all this before, we probably wouldn't be traveling together. I hope you can look past it now, but if you can't...you need to let me know.”

Seeing the sadness in her eyes, he wanted to tell her it was all fine, but he couldn't because it wasn't. Although he knew she was one of the last people to have any Legion sympathies, he still couldn't help but be bothered by the idea of her in the presence of such a monster and speaking to him like he was human. She even used his given name. “I'll see you in the morning.”

“Okay,” she replied quietly. “Good night.”

Lying down on their respective bunks, the fatigue from the last several days pulled them both into an uneasy slumber.

 

* * * * *

 

After returning to Bitter Springs, Boone had hoped that his nightmares would subside, but that was not the case. This one was new, however. The canyon was filled with Legion, but he couldn't manage to focus on any of them through his scope. He could hear Beth screaming his name, but he couldn't see her. Just as he became overrun with legionaries, he woke up.

Sitting up, he wiped the sweat from his face and sighed as the details of the dream began to fade. Then he heard mumbling coming from the other side of the tent. In the dim light, he could see Beth was in the midst of one of her own bad dreams, with her eyes twitching, her garbled words that he still couldn't make out, and her face and neck damp with sweat. Based on the vague statements she had made about her life since leaving the vault and the various scars he had seen on her skin, it was a wonder she didn't have them more often than she did.

Since their encounter with the eyebot, he had wondered what history she had with the Enclave, but there hadn't been a good time to ask about it. “My Legion” is what she had called them. The Legion had taken his family from him. Was that what the Enclave had done to her? He had gotten the impression that Beth didn't have a family, but maybe she had once.

Looking back to his companion, he saw that she seemed to have quieted down into a more restful sleep. The holstered gun on her pack caught his gaze and he felt the sinking feeling in his stomach again. He knew she was right that if he had known earlier about her familiarity with the Malpais Legate, they likely wouldn't be traveling together. But what about now? Was this something he could live with knowing? Was this too much for him to look past?

He studied her face, now peacefully asleep. Here was the nicest, most understanding person he had ever met. She stood by him even after knowing about Carla and Bitter Springs. She had reacted, but didn't reject him. How could he reject her over this now? He didn't want to. He wanted to stay with her. Also, he knew that if he was going to redeem himself, the surest way was by being at her side.

 

* * * * *

 

When Beth woke, the tent was lit with the morning sunlight from outside and she saw that she was alone. The bed Boone had occupied was now vacant. Did he leave while she was asleep? After learning about her connection to the Malpais Legate, however tenuous, she couldn't really blame him. Her throat tightened at the thought and she sat up. Then she noticed his beret sitting on the end of his bed. “ _He wouldn't leave without it. He must still be here,_ ” she thought, feeling hopeful. Getting out of bed and slipping on her boots, she picked up the cap and put it in her back pocket as she exited the tent. She intended to find him or breakfast. Just outside, she found both.

“Morning,” she greeted tentatively.

He was sitting at an old picnic table with his back to her. “Yup,” he said, his tone neutral.

She sighed, thinking that “ _good morning_ ” still didn't seem to be in his vocabulary. “You're up early.”

“Yup.”

“That for me?” she asked, indicating a bowl of some kind of porridge next to a cup of coffee.

“Yeah. Probably cold now, though.”

“Whatever. Thanks.” She picked up the cup and took a sip, then grimaced with a short gag.

“The coffee's shit.”

Setting the cup back down, she coughed. The cold, burnt bitterness lingered on her tongue. “Thanks for the warning.” Sitting down next to him and in front of the bowl, she saw that he had a disassembled pistol in front of him, as though broken down for parts. Then she saw the snakeskin grip. “Hey! What the fuck do you think you're doing?!”

“You know, you really should clean and oil this thing more often, if you like it so much.” Picking up the loose barrel, he showed it to her. “See the carbon build-up?” Taking his wire brush, he pushed it through the barrel and continued cleaning.

Shaking her head in disbelief at the genuine and oddly sweet gesture, she smiled. “Thank you.”

“Mm hmm.”

Pulling his beret out of her pocket, she set it on his head, noticing he was letting his hair grow out some. “You forgot this on your bunk.”

“Oh, is that where it was?” he responded flatly.

She watched him oil and reassemble the gun while she ate the cold porridge and forced down the awful coffee. When he finished, he set it down in front of her without a word and then began working on his rifle, disassembling it with practiced ease. It reminded her of the few times she'd seen someone play a musical instrument.

“So, are we okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, we're okay.”

 


	16. Days Like This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The companions clear Cottonwood Cove and prepare for their trip to Fortification Hill.

After leaving Camp Forlorn Hope, the companions made a point to take a quick detour to Ranger Station Delta to update their radio security codes. The comm officer seemed more annoyed at the inconvenience of changing the codes than anything else. No one but Tech Sergeant Reyes seemed to think that radio security was terribly important.

While they were there, they spoke with Ranger Pason about one of the strange reports.

“Legion Super Mutants?” he repeated, obviously confused. “I never filed a report like that.”

“A report was filed from this station that said Legion Super Mutants wiped out a patrol,” Beth said, pointing to the line on the paper Reyes had given her. “Does anyone else here file official reports?”

“No, I'm the only one, but the Legion doesn't have Super Mutants. A patrol was killed a few days ago, but that was due to a mishandled grenade.”

“Okay, I'll let Sergeant Reyes know. Thank you for your time.”

“Ma'am.” Pason tipped the corner of his wide-brimmed hat to her and walked away.

“Well, at least we know we're not going to be accosted by any Super Mutants wearing sports equipment,” Beth said with a small laugh.

“At least there's that,” Boone replied. “But someone made that report. I'd like to know who it was and why.” He hoped that it was just someone's idea of a joke, but it was also possible Legion spies were attempting to cause chaos within the NCR. He knew first-hand how important accurate and clear communication was. The lives of real soldiers and civilians depended on the quality of the intelligence the brass reported. Given enough bad intel, entire battles could be lost, even one as critical as the next battle for the Dam.

“We'll keep looking into this, when we can. One thing at a time, though.”

“Right. Don't want to get distracted.” They had other priorities right now. Yet something about all this kept nagging at him, as though part of him knew there was more going on.

 

The companions continued south with Beth following Boone's lead, letting him set the pace. As they walked, he grew increasingly solemn. He had walked this way before. This time it would be different, though: he was prepared and he had Beth by his side. There was a very good chance that they wouldn't make it through this, but that felt much less inevitable than it had at Bitter Springs.

Even without a map, he could tell they were getting close and he felt an uncomfortable clenching in his stomach. When he saw the sign for Cottonwood Cove in the distance, he stopped and turned to his companion. “We're near the Legion camp now. I've...been here before,” he said in a pained voice.

“Before?” she repeated quietly. “This is where...?”

He nodded and took a deep breath to calm himself. If they were going to have any chance, he needed to keep his thoughts focused and not let his emotions take over. “You ready for this?”

“We need to at least do some scouting first,” she answered. “See what we're up against before we go in guns-blazing.”

“Fine. Up on the ridge,” he said, pointing up to the left on the hill. “We can get a look at the camp from there.” Taking the long way around, so as not to be seen, they made their way up to a small open structure near a wooden sniper platform. This wasn't here the last time, he noted. The NCR must have built it to keep an eye on the Cove and the Legion activity coming across the river. Unslinging his rifle, he peered through the scope to survey the area. The road to the Cove was only patrolled by a few soldiers instead of the dozens that had been there previously. The central part of the camp was also sparsely populated, not swarming with crimson like before.

Boone stole a glance at the balcony of the main building—that cursed place. It was the last place he saw Carla. It was also a place he saw over and over in his sleep. His stomach lurched and a lump formed in his throat, making it difficult to breathe.

There was no auction today. Of all things, he was most grateful for that. That was not something he could stand to see again.

“There aren't nearly as many as before,” he finally said in a choked voice.

“Let me see.” Leaning over and looking through the scope herself, she confirmed, “Yeah, that's manageable, if we're careful. They must have sent most of them closer to the Dam. If they did the same with the Fort, we might actually be able to do this.” She paused a moment, then let out a small gasp. “There’s a woman and two kids down there.”

“What?”

“There, in the fenced area next to the two-story building.”

Taking the scope back, he looked toward where Beth had indicated. As she said, there were three people inside a pen in rags with slave collars around their necks. He watched as a legionary seemed to be taunting the captures by throwing small bits of food inside the cage for them to scramble for, as though they were nothing but animals to him. “We need to move. Get those people out of there.” Maybe he couldn't save his wife and child from this place, but he and Beth could save those people.

“Let's go.”

“I've got your back.”

* * * * *

This time went much like it had in Nelson, with Beth weaving between structures to sneak up on unsuspecting legionaries as Boone picked off the ones more out in the open from above, quick and methodical. The sound of his sniper rifle echoed off the rock walls of the Cove, making it difficult for the legionaries to figure out where the shots were coming from. As she proceeded on, he crept closer along the cliff, making sure to keep track of her while still staying out of sight of the enemy.

Once everything had gone quiet and it appeared that they had killed the last of the legionaries, Beth turned and gave Boone a thumbs-up and he climbed down from the hill to join her. They then methodically checked each building, looking for any hidden soldiers.

After they cleared the camp, they approached the slave pen which held the three frightened captures.

“You...you killed them,” said the young man in what sounded like a mix of terror and awe. “Wha...how?”

“What are you going to do with us?” the woman asked, her voice weak and shaky.

Beth gave them a reassuring smile, which only went so far, since her face and the front of her armor were spattered with blood. “It's okay. We won't hurt you. What are your names?”

“I'm...I'm Paula. This is my son, Kenny, and my daughter, Sammy,” she said, pointing to each of them in turn. “Are you with the NCR?”

“Um..sort of. I'm Beth and this is Boone. We're going to get you out of there, okay?”

The companions walked around to the gate and Beth studied it. Pulling Boone aside, she said quietly to him, “I can pick the lock on the gate no problem, but I'd rather not go fiddling with those collars if I don't have to. See if you can find keys.”

He nodded to her as she pulled out her lock picks. The legionary closest to the pen looked to be the one he saw earlier with the prisoners, so he began searching him first. Boone opened a bag in the dead man's hand and saw that it was full of food scraps, much of which were obviously spoiled. He grimaced at the realization that this was what the bastard had been throwing to those people, expecting them to eat what any decent person wouldn't even feed a brahmin. By the size and placement of the hole through the slaver's skull, Boone knew it was from one of his bullets, which made the sniper smile internally.

Even though he tried not to, he couldn't help but think about Carla, about what would have happened to her had he hesitated or arrived too late. It was one of the many intrusive thoughts he had fought so often since that day. A wave of nausea flooded his insides and he took several deep breaths to push it away. “ _Just get the keys, dammit,_ ” he whispered to himself. Reaching into the pouch hanging from the dead slaver's side, he found a small key ring. Wiping his face with his hand, he stood up and walked back to Beth. She had already opened the gate and was checking the prisoners for injuries.

“Everyone okay?” he asked, his voice carrying a slight quiver.

She looked up at him and seemed to study his face for a long second, looking concerned. “Yeah, they'll be okay. They mostly need food and clean water.”

Boone held out the keys to her, which she took with a nod and carefully unlocked each of their collars, revealing reddened and chaffed skin underneath. The way she handled the devices with practiced and steady hands, it was like she had done this before, maybe several times before.

“What will happen to us now?” asked Sammy as Beth worked to remove her collar. The girl's mother and brother rubbed their sore necks and looked to the companions, as though for guidance.

“Well, while my friend and I figure that out, you three see what supplies you can scavenge,” Beth answered. “The camp's clear, so you shouldn't have any problems. The building by the dock has food. Find some bottles you can fill with river water. And each of you need a weapon. You can get them off the legionaries.” She relayed these instructions very matter-of-factly. Boone recognized that this was the efficient and practical side of her that had managed to survive for so long on her own in the Wasteland. Yes, they were freed slaves, but holding their hands out of pity would not help them survive.

The family looked to each other, the three of them still seeming rather lost. Then they walked wearily toward the dock, as instructed.

Once they were out of earshot, she asked Boone, “Where do you think would be safe for them to go? Novac?”

Boone shook his head. “Too much risk of Legion and raiders on the way. They'd be better off heading to the nearest Ranger Station and getting what help they can there. Maybe they can travel with the next supply caravan to wherever they want to go.”

“Good thinking.” She opened up her Pip-Boy map and studied it. “Looks like Ranger Station Echo is only a couple hours walk from here.”

“Um, so you know, most of the rangers there are... _ghouls_.”

Beth narrowed her eyes at him. “So? They're not feral, right?”

“No, of course not, it's just that--”

“What's wrong with ghouls?” she asked defensively, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Nothing, nothing. It's just that not everyone is comfortable around them and I thought you should know before we sent these people there.” He was slightly surprised at her strong reaction, as though she were personally insulted.

“Well, it's their best chance at safety right now.”

“Yeah, I agree. Just thought I'd mention it.” Seeing that she still seemed annoyed, he added with sincerity, “I really don't have a problem with ghouls.”

This seemed to appease her and she uncrossed her arms. “Okay, then.”

 

 

When the family returned, each had a small bag slung over their shoulders. Paula and Kenny each had a small handgun and Sammy carried a machete. Boone hoped that they knew how to use them.

Patiently, Beth showed them where to go on her map. “Okay, so head north through the rock passage there,” she pointed. “When you reach the road, follow it. You'll see a cut in the hillside, take it east. You'll be able to see the station's antenna from quite a ways away.” She then glanced to Boone. “Oh, and some of the rangers there are non-feral ghouls, but don't worry about that. Okay?”

They all nodded.

“Okay. Now you take care of yourselves,” she said. “And each other.”

Instructions relayed, the family trudged northwards through the passage. Boone watched them, hoping silently that they would make it safely. When they were out of sight, he and Beth returned to the sniper's nest above the Cove.

Looking at her, he saw that her hands, face, and armor were still spattered with blood from the legionaries she had taken out at close-range. “How much of this blood is yours?” he asked with concern, lifting her chin to check for injuries. She had a fresh red bruise on her cheek and a small cut on her lip.

“Not much, I don't think. Probably looks worse than it is.” He handed her two stimpaks and med-x; she used the stimpaks, but left the med-x. Taking a torn piece of cloth and wetting it with water from a bottle, she started to clean the blood and dirt from her face and hands. “That was some nice shooting earlier, by the way.”

“Not so bad yourself.” Seeing that she wasn't getting the blood off her face cleanly, he held out his hand. “Here, let me help.” She nodded and handed him the cloth. Wetting it with some more water, he gently wiped the dirt and spatter from her face, just now noticing how pretty she was under all of it. He hadn't realized before just how blue her eyes were.

As he looked at her, her freckled cheeks grew slightly pinker and she abruptly took the cloth back. “Thanks. I can do the rest.” She moved to a shady spot a few feet away and drank the rest of the water from the bottle.

It was only then that Boone realized he had been staring at her and he felt his own cheeks flush. He turned back towards the Cove before she could see.

* * * * *

They agreed that it wouldn't be wise to charge into the Fort when it was light out. Cover of darkness seemed to be the way to go, since Boone couldn't count on being able to snipe the legionaries from above. This was likely going to be much closer quarters. Not his strong suit, but nothing he couldn't handle, he assured her. They had no idea how many soldiers they would be up against, but if they could catch most of them while they were asleep or otherwise unawares, they would have a much better chance.

While they waited for the rest of the day to pass, he insisted that she rest while he kept an eye out for any activity coming to the Cove. Mostly, he wanted some quiet time alone to think.

He would have thought returning here would have been even more difficult than returning to Bitter Springs, but something was different and he wasn't sure what it was. Thinking back to that grim September day, he remembered how alone and helpless he felt staring down at the Cove swarming with legionaries. Looking down there now, it was empty and peaceful. The sunlight reflected off the water of the river. Old boats sat on the shore. Just above the Cove, there were campers and trailers, long ago abandoned. This was never supposed to be a place to sell slaves and now it wasn't anymore. If the Legion was defeated, with hope, it would never be again.

As he continued to stare down at the camp, he heard a clicking sound and Beth mumbling. Turning around, he asked, “What are you doing?”

“Picking the lock on this case,” she answered without looking up from the large metal box she was attempting to break into. “It's a hard one, but I think....I almost....” The lock let out a final click as it yielded to her expertise. “Got it!”

Having seen her pick nearly every lock she came across, as long as no one else was looking, he was decidedly uninterested. “Let me guess, more ammo for guns we don't use and other useless junk?”

“Does this look like 'useless junk'?” she asked, pulling a scoped rifle from it with a rather satisfied grin on her face. Standing up and walking over, she held it out to him.

He took it from her and looked it over. It was painted with desert camouflage and felt light, yet sturdy in his hands. “Huh, from the look of it, it's an old Gobi scout rifle. Pre-war. Pretty rare.” Examining it more closely, he concluded, “It's in damned good condition.”

“You should take it. If you want.”

“You sure?” He had always kind of wanted a rifle like this. Plus, he had no particular attachment to the one he was already using, since he'd only had it for a little over a year.

“Yeah, unless I'm taking down a Super Mutant or a deathclaw, handguns are more my speed. I know you'll put it to good use.”

“Thanks,” he said sincerely, testing out the scope. “You taken down a lot of Super Mutants?” He'd seen her tackle deathclaws and she certainly seemed to know what she was doing with them.

“Oh, yeah,” she affirmed emphatically. “The Capital Wasteland was _crawling_ with them. Say what you will about the Mojave, but at least you can be reasonably certain not to meet a behemoth with a rocket launcher when you're walking down the road.”

“Is that why you left? Too many Super Mutants?” He knew it wasn't. It was obvious there were things much more personal back east that she had wanted to get away from, but he wasn't sure how to ask without prying too much.

“Nah, I just needed a fresh start, you know? Find some peace somewhere. See how well that worked out?” She smirked sardonically.

“You don't like talking about the past, do you?”

“I could say the same about you.”

“Fair enough.”

“How about this, when all this is done, we'll sit down somewhere quiet with a bottle of Mr. House's finest whiskey and swap stories. Sound good?”

“Sounds good.”

* * * * *

At around mid afternoon, Boone saw a small boat coming up the river, carrying six legionaries. “Spotted,” he said in a hushed tone.

Beth leaned in, looking through the scope of his new rifle as she put her hand to her own weapon. “Half a dozen. Better get to them before they realize the rest of their buddies are dead.”

“Hold on. They're far enough away, they won't get far before I pick 'em off. Hell, I bet I'll get four of them before they even figure out what's happening.”

“Ten caps says you can't,” she challenged, a playful gleam in her eye as she pulled out her binoculars.

He looked at her straight-faced, holding back a smirk. “Make it twenty.”

“You're on.” They shook on it and he turned back to his scope to plan out his shots as Beth watched through her binoculars.

“ _Me and Manny used to do this kind of shit all the time,_ ” he thought, almost letting out a laugh. He remembered how they would make bets and joke around while out in the field. It broke up the monotony of sitting for hours or longer waiting for a target to present itself. It didn't matter where they were or how serious the mission, they were always able to keep up each other's spirits. As pissed off as he still was at his former friend, he couldn't help but miss those times they had together. Why did everything have to be so fucked up?

Boone glanced over at Beth for a second before he looked back through his scope. At least he had her. They were a team now.

The boat pulled up to the dock and the legionaries began to climb out onto the wooden platform. She jumped a little when the first shot rang out. The he fired again, then twice more. Each took one of the enemy with it. The two remaining legionaries were looking around, trying to get to cover in a small shack adjacent to the dock. Taking careful aim, Boone squeezed the trigger again and one of the unsuspecting soldiers dropped, falling into the water. One more shot took out the last one, he too caught unawares, collapsing against the door of the shack. The Gobi rifle was more powerful than his previous one and the fire rate was faster, he noticed. He could get used to this.

“Damnit!” Beth exclaimed in mock frustration, snapping her fingers.

With a cocky grin on his face, he held out his hand. “Fork over the caps, Courier. And don't pretend you're not good for 'em.”

Sneering at him sarcastically, she reached into her bag, grabbing a handful of caps and counted them out into his hand. “...and twenty.”

The brief moment of levity was distracting them from the reality of where they were and what they were about to do. There was no way of knowing how invading the Fort was going to play out. They had been extraordinarily lucky so far and there was no telling how long that luck would last.

 

 

Darkness was falling. After dropping everything nonessential to leave behind, they moved down the hill and toward the dock. As they approached the waiting raft, Boone spoke up, “We take this boat it's probably the last one we ever take. I'm ready for that. Are you?”

Taking a breath and letting it out slowly, she nodded. “I'm ready. Caesar won't know what hit him.”

“That's what the scope's for.”

“'The last thing he'll never see,' right?”

“Exactly.” She stepped toward the raft and he stopped her again. “Hey, listen, um...I don't know what's going to happen, so I wanted to say this now. Thank you...for everything.” He wanted to say more, to tell her how much he valued her partnership. Her friendship. She was the only one who could have brought him here. If it weren't for her, he'd still be back in Novac marking time and he owed her far more than she owed him. But he never had been good with words, especially when feelings were attached, so he didn't say more.

“You're welcome.” She smiled warmly. “Oh, and by the way, when we get to Caesar--and we _will_ get to him--he's all yours.”

A feeling of grim determination filled his chest. “What are we waiting for?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, especially those of you who are reading the revised chapters after already having read the original draft. I hope you are all enjoying them. There are only a couple of chapters left to revise before I can get back to posting brand new stuff. 
> 
> Please leave a comment and let me know what you think.


	17. Live and Let Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the help of the Courier, Boone exacts revenge on the Legion at Fortification Hill. Beth retrieves the Platinum Chip and must deal with Benny. 
> 
> Now that she has the Chip, what is she going to do with it?

Guided through the dark by the map on her Pip-Boy, Beth and Boone took the Legion's raft up the river toward Fortification Hill. Along the way, the companions barely spoke as they rowed quietly through the moonlit water. In another time or place, this might have been a lovely romantic evening, but romance was the last thing on either of their minds at the moment. They were on a mission, possibly their last.

Beth could almost hear Charon's voice in her head telling her how foolish this was, marching into a war camp full of slavers and killers at the side of a vengeful, broken man. He'd had similar doubts about attacking Paradise Falls back in the Capital, but that had been successful. Besides, the old ghoul hadn't been immune to vengeance himself, she recalled. Moments after his contract had changed hands, his former employer had been sprawled out on the floor in a pool of blood, dead from two shotgun blasts. It all seemed like a lifetime ago, yet she could remember some details with almost perfect clarity.

If Charon were here now, she knew the Legion wouldn't stand a chance against the three of them. She felt a wistful twinge at the thought. She glanced over at Boone who was rowing beside her and staring forward with a determined expression. Oddly, he did remind her a bit of Charon, she supposed, although they obviously looked nothing alike. They were both protective and more than capable in a fight. They were also stoic to a fault and largely only spoke when necessary. Boone was warmer and more talkative, however, but she doubted anyone would believe that if she said it. She had managed to learn more about him in just the last few weeks than she ever knew about Charon.

 

When they reached their destination, they pulled the raft up to the shore and checked over their equipment again. The entrance to the Fort was only a short trek up the hill. As they approached through the darkness, they saw two guards standing outside the gate. With quick shots from the companions' silenced pistols, they fell lifelessly into the sand.

The sniper had been reluctant to use the silenced handguns, saying that they were too low-powered and “cowardly,” but Beth had insisted. She wanted to take out as many of the enemy as they could before the whole camp knew they were there. She had also suggested they wear Legion armor to blend in even more, but he had flat out refused that, so this was a compromise.

Going in through the front gate seemed to be the only option, since they didn't have climbing gear to go over the wall.

Mouthing to her, Boone asked, “ _You ready?_ ”

She nodded.

They opened the gate slowly and, when the guard peered around to see who was coming through, Boone shot him through the forehead before he could make a sound. The other guard didn't have a chance to react before Beth shot him and he collapsed silently.

Even without their sunglasses, it was still difficult to see with the camp's torches and the moon providing the only light. Moving forward towards a bridge, they spotted two more guards and silently took them out while they weren't expecting it. Continuing to sneak along, they made their way up to the main section of the camp to another large wooden gate. Signaling to each other that they were ready, they slowly pushed it open and carefully snuck inside.

* * * * *

The Legion had been rather foolish in not guarding itself well enough against possible rogue infiltrators, Beth observed. They were likely expecting a large and brazen NCR assault, one that could be easily spotted prior to the attack. The companions' stealth tactics were a variable they clearly hadn't anticipated—the element of surprise had always been the pair's best weapon. They took their time and used the darkness to their advantage. It was also clear that this was no longer the main Legion camp in the area, as it was large enough to hold at least five times as many soldiers as were currently here. Most of them had likely been moved closer to the Dam in preparation for the battle everyone in the Mojave knew was coming.

Clearing the Fort was still difficult, but the companions were careful and survived with only moderate injuries. The few legionaries that were on nighttime guard duty were young and easily surprised. The ones that were sleeping were even easier to defeat. Using the silenced weapons had been quite effective, allowing them to take out nearly half the camp in secret through the quiet dark. When legionaries were alerted to their presence, they were able to kill them before they could sound the alarm to the rest of the camp.

The mongrels were not as easy to sneak up on, since they could smell the intruders before they saw or heard them. The growling and barking that should have alerted the legionaries to trouble, however, had only caused them to yell at the dogs to shut up. It might have been a comical situation, had the stakes not been so high and if luck didn't threaten to turn against them at any moment.

The few slaves that inhabited the war camp had been too broken and terrified to scream. The companions instructed them to stay hidden until the camp was clear, then get to safety.

As they moved through the camp, Beth noted how well she and Boone had learned to work together, in an almost choreographed fashion. She and Charon hadn't been this in-sync with each other in battle, not even after more than three years of training, traveling, and fighting together. Even though she proved herself time and again to him, he had still mostlyl treated her like a kid. With Boone, they were partners and she knew he trusted her as much as she trusted him.

 

They reached the command tent just as the sun was rising. Beth checked her .45 as Boone readied his new rifle—the time for silence was over. They knew the tent would likely be more heavily guarded, since Caesar himself was inside.

From the small satchel at her side, Beth pulled out a grenade she had been saving for just this purpose. Silently lifting up a corner of the tent, she pulled the pin with her teeth and rolled the grenade inside. The companions stepped back and there was a large bang, along with a bright flash that they could see even through the thick canvas. A second later, they burst into the tent with their weapons drawn and began shooting the stunned legionaries inside. Some of them were stumbling around, dazed and partially blinded from the blast.

The tighter quarters made the fight chaotic and the tent was filled with the smoke from the grenade, making it more difficult to see. Working quickly while the legionaries were still stunned, Beth and Boone killed four of them before they could strike. One guard with a shaved head swung at her face with his ballistic fist, but he was still somewhat disoriented and she was able to duck in time. He drew back to swing again, but before he could, she shot him twice in his unprotected face, nearly decapitating him.

“What the hell is going on?!” Beth heard a man yell from the other side of the tent. She looked across the tent and saw a bald man walking from behind what she could only guess was Caesar's throne. “Can't a man get any sleep without you fuckers--” Those were his last words, as Boone's bullet struck him in the forehead. A spray of red hit the canvas fabric behind him and he collapsed.

Before the sniper could take his eye from his scope, another legionary armed with a ballistic fist shouted something in Latin and charged toward him, punching him hard in the face, then the stomach; Boone stumbled and doubled-over against the blows, falling back onto the ground and letting out a heavy grunt. Beth shot the legionary in the side of his head and he fell in a heap on top of one of his dead comrades, their blood flowing together into a bright red puddle in the sandy floor.

Suddenly, she felt someone grab her from behind, wrapping an arm around her throat, choking her to the point where she began to see spots in her vision. Boone was still laying on the ground, seemingly still dazed from the punch from the ballistic fist. “ _Focus,_ ” she thought to herself forcefully, knowing she only had a few seconds before she lost consciousness. With as much strength as she could gather, she elbowed the man behind her in the stomach, stomped on his foot, then snapped her head back against his face. The force of her skull against his more fragile facial bones gave a sharp, sickening crack and his grip loosened enough for her to break free. Turning quickly, she hit him again, this time in his temple with the grip of her gun. She then aimed and shot him in his already bloody face, shattering what was left of it, and leaving it an unrecognizable mangled mess bleeding into the dirt.

A legion mongrel charged at Beth and sunk its teeth into the back of her leg as she fended off another legionary armed with a machete, who yelled “For Caesar!” as he swung at her.

Boone sat up with a groan of pain and kicked the dog hard with the heel of his heavy boot to get it off of her, then fired his rifle at its head, which shattered into a spray of blood and brain. She was able to dodge the machete and shoot the final legionary in his stomach, then in his chest. The weapon fell from his hands and he staggered toward her. She brought up her foot and kicked him away, then shot him once more in the forehead, causing him to crumple lifelessly to the ground.

It was over.

After taking a moment to make sure the threat had passed, Beth knelt down beside Boone, whose left cheek and eye were already red and heavily swollen. “Are you alright?” she asked with deep concern.

“Yeah, I'll be fine,” he replied in a strained voice. She reached out and lightly touched his cheek and he winced with a hiss. “Okay, yeah, that hurts.”

“Well you _were_ just hit with a ballistic fist. Here.” Reaching into her satchel, she pulled out a couple of stimpaks and injected one into his neck. “That should help. Let's see your abdomen.” Since he was in obvious pain and still somewhat dazed, she took the initiative to unfasten his jacket and pull up his shirt. The spot above his belly button was just starting to bruise. She pressed lightly against his skin as she moved her hand along each side.

“What are you doing?” he asked, sounding uncomfortable.

“I'm checking to see if your ribs are broken. Doesn't feel like they are. Your armored jacket absorbed a lot of the blow. Still, I'm going to give you a stimpak in case there's any internal bleeding.” After injecting the other stimpak into the bruised skin, she looked him over for any other injuries, but found none. “Do you need some med-x?”

He shook his head. “No. The stimpaks will kick in soon enough.”

While it still sounded like he was in pain, she didn't press it. “Okay, but let me know if you don't start feeling better soon.” Seeing his beret lying in the dirt behind him, she picked it up and dusted it off, then handed it back to him.

“Thanks.” He put it back on his head and fastened his jacket closed.

Beth stood, then reached down to help Boone to his feet. The two of them paused there for a moment, catching their breath and processing what had just happened. Then they walked forward.

Through the opening to the next part of the tent, Beth was somewhat surprised to see a man in a checkered suit kneeling on the ground, looking beaten and afraid. After their detour to Bitter Springs, she had wondered if he would still be alive by the time they got here.

Boone didn't seem to notice the man. Instead, he walked over to Caesar's body and stared down at it with a look of rage and disgust. “Thumbs down, you son of a bitch,” he growled with clear satisfaction, taking off his aviators and spitting on the crumpled body lying on the dirt floor.

Beth bent down and rummaged through the dead Legion leader's clothing until she found the Platinum Chip. Taking it between her thumb and forefinger, she turned it over in her hand: the thing that nearly got her killed, the thing that brought her all this way, the thing that changed everything. She hadn't gotten a good look at it before, didn't know how significant it would be. It was smaller than she remembered. And now it was coated with blood.

After a couple of minutes of her staring at the Chip, Boone bent down next to her and asked, “You okay?”

With a nod, she stood up and pocketed the Chip. “Yeah. Just one more thing to take care of.” Turning back to the figure in the checkered coat on his knees with his hands tied, she fixed her gaze on him as she approached. “Hello, Benny.” He leaned back slightly at the address. Spattered with so much blood, she knew she had to appear somewhat terrifying and she resisted the urge to smirk. “Now what was it you were saying about the game being rigged?”

“Go ahead and laugh, baby. I ain't blind to the humor in this situation,” he responded, letting out a cough and then wincing in pain.

Examining him more closely, she saw that his face was heavily bruised and dirty, his lip split, his once pristine suit now ragged and stained with blood. The legionaries had clearly given him regular beatings over the course of his captivity, since his various injuries looked to be in different stages of healing. She wondered why they hadn't just killed him.

“But I gotta say, you're a scrapper. Those guys didn't stand a chance,” he said, his voice much weaker and less confident than it had been during their last encounter at The Tops. “What about me?”

Pulling out her .45, she held it against his forehead as he looked up at her through his swollen eyes. “I think you know,” she responded through gritted teeth.

“You fink! You're going to murder me like this, down on my knees?” He coughed again.

Shaking her head in disbelief, she didn't even know what to say to that. The hypocrisy was unbelievable. She took a deep breath, preparing herself to finish this in the way she had planned to for so long. But then she hesitated. Seeing the helpless, pathetic figure there on the ground diminished her resolve.

Glancing at the gun in her bloodied hand, she thought back to that day in Zion, how she had stayed Joshua's hand which held the grip of this same gun, while Salt-Upon-Wounds cowered on the ground before them. Yes, the tribal had deserved to die for all the pain and death he had caused, but not like that.

_And the light shineth in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not._

“ _Son of a bitch!_ ” she spat under her breath with frustration, knowing now what she needed to do. Holstering her pistol, she walked around behind Benny and pulled out her combat knife.

The Courier bent down, putting one hand firmly on the Chairman's shoulder and whispered aggressively in his ear, just loud enough for Boone to hear, “So here's how this is gonna go. I'm going to cut you loose and you're going to get the fuck out of here. You're going to leave the Mojave and never come back. You've seen what my friend here and I are capable of. If you ever show your face anywhere near my Wasteland ever again, I'll make you wish I'd left you here to be crucified. Do you understand?” She waited a moment for him to respond, her hand gripping him tighter.

Benny gulped. “Sure, baby. I'll head for the nearest sunset.”

“Good.” Slipping the knife roughly under the bindings, she cut the ropes on his ankles, then on his wrists and shoved him forward. “Now go.”

Scrambling to his feet, he quickly made his way to the door, running out of the tent with surprising swiftness, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. She threw the knife down, impaling it into the dirt floor.

Boone stared at her, dumbfounded. “You—you let him go?”

“Yeah. I guess I did,” she said with a dull scowl.

“Why?”

Watching the door for a moment as the dust calmed, she looked to her companion with tired eyes. “I...I don't want to talk about it right now. Let's just take the Chip to the bunker like House wants and get the fuck out of here.”

*  *  *  *  *

They wordlessly walked to the weather station building through their destruction, the camp now as still and quiet as a graveyard. The image of Caesar's final moment replayed in Boone's mind, but the concept of it hadn't sunk in yet. It was almost surreal. Caesar was dead and it had been his bullet that ended him. After everything, that part had seemed far too easy.

Otherwise, Boone didn't want to think about how close things had gotten back there, but couldn't help it. He had been lying helplessly on the ground when that legionary grabbed Beth and choked her. Thankfully, she had been able to fight the bastard off, but things could have easily gone the other way. Before and during the fight, Boone tried not to think about what could happen, as it would have only distracted him from the mission. He had reassured himself that she was strong and he would never let anything happen to her. Now that the fighting was over, the thought of them capturing her made him sick and furious, making him wish there were more of them there to kill. In the quiet aftermath, however, all that was left for him in that moment was a pressing need to keep her safe.

Looking over at her, he saw how bloody her leg was from the mongrel's bite. “Hey, your leg looks pretty bad,” he said to her.

She glanced down at it with a curious expression, as though she hadn't noticed. Perhaps being wounded numerous times over the years made her ignore injury. Or maybe the agony from being shot in the head had taught her to disregard more minor pain. Or she was too distracted by other things to pay attention to anything else. “Oh, yeah,” she replied.

“Here, sit. Let me look at it.” He took her arm and gently led her to sit down. Rolling up her torn, blood soaked pant leg, he lifted up her leg and examined the bite. It was still bleeding slightly and he could see the individual marks from the dog's teeth. “We need to clean this before you get an infection.”

“I can do it.”

“It's in the back of your leg. It would be easier for me to do it.”

She sighed. “Okay.”

Taking off the satchel at his side, he pulled out a bottle of purified water and poured it over the wound, washing the fresh blood away. She handed him the small medkit from her bag and he took out a bottle of alcohol and used it to sterilize the bite as best he could. Then he applied a stimpak and bandages. Through all of it, she hardly made a sound.

She seemed very distracted, which made him seriously wonder what was going on with her. He didn't understand what had happened back in the command tent. When she holstered her gun and pulled out her knife, he thought she was going to slit Benny's throat, but she didn't. She threatened him, but that was it. After everything, all her threats and thirst for vengeance, after the piece of shit had almost killed her more than once and caused her so much pain, she would just let him go? Wasn't killing him the main reason she was here? It didn't make sense.

“How does it feel?” he asked, wondering about her state of mind in addition to her pain level.

“Better. Thank you.” She stood up and didn't seem to be bothered by the injury, despite a lack of med-x. “Let's keep going.”

They reached the weather station and with a push, the heavy door creaked open, cutting through the silence with a metallic whine. The inside was sparse with a couple of consoles and broken computer terminals.

“What does he want you to do?” Boone asked.

“I'm supposed to use the Chip in one of the consoles here and then I guess we see what happens.” Inserting the Chip into the slot opened up the hatch on the floor to their left, revealing a set of stairs leading downward. The Chip ejected back into her hand. “You coming?”

“Yeah. I'm not letting you go down there by yourself.”

Down the steps, they could see a set of old double elevator doors bearing the emblem of the Lucky 38. They rode down the elevator in silence.

When the doors opened again on the other side, it seemed to be some kind of vault. The air was cold and Boone could hear the Geiger counter on Beth's Pip-Boy click distinctively. After she popped a Rad-X tablet, she handed one to him, which he took without comment. Since vaults were far out of his comfort zone, he was feeling unsettled. The stimpaks had already done a decent job at healing his injuries and most of the pain was subsiding, so that was not a distraction.

Following the corridor to the next room, she jumped at the sight of Mr. House on the large screen. “Shit!” she exclaimed, putting her hand to her chest in surprise.

Boone let out a small gasp. “Is that...?”

“Yeah. The 'Big Boss' himself.”

The sniper hadn't been allowed into the penthouse of the Lucky 38, so this was his first direct encounter with the man. As far as he knew, he was the only NCR citizen to have _ever_ seen him. He wasn't sure what he should have expected.

“I see you reached your destination safely,” came the deep, commanding voice of Mr. House. “Shall we get to work?”

“Hello to you, too,” Beth replied with slight annoyance. “What are we doing here?”

“I need you to find the Systems Control Room and insert the Platinum Chip into the console there.”

“Why? What is this 'Chip'?”  
“It is a data storage device. Once inserted, the console will download the necessary software to the facility's primary computer. Should be simple enough.”

Beth seemed hesitant. “Anything else we should know?”

“Unfortunately, while I can broadcast to this screen, I cannot control any of the facility's systems, including security, which appears to be on alert. There is a security room at the bottom of the stairs to your left where you can disable it.”

“Fine. I will do as you ask,” she said. Boone was surprised she agreed so readily.

“Very good. Report back here when you are finished.”

From the doorway to the left, Boone quickly dispatched a hostile robot at the base of the stairs, then he and Beth went down to the security room.

“Let's see if I can disable the alert and keep these damned robots off our backs,” she said. Activating one of the three consoles with a glowing green screen, it beeped and she began to type.

“You know how to do that?” Boone asked, with a raised eyebrow.

Not taking her eyes off the screen, she shrugged. “Most of the RobCo computer systems have a similar interface. They used them in the vaults and a lot of other places back before the war. Businesses, government offices. Some are more complex, but once you get the general idea of how they work, hacking them is pretty straight-forward.” She tapped some keys and before long, the console beeped and clicked. Then she moved to the next one and did the same thing. “Done.” Snapping her fingers, she shot him a brief grin.

Again, she managed to surprise him. Not much intimidated the veteran sniper, but she often did. Yet it never lasted long. One minute she would be dazzling him with her skills or intelligence, the next, she would flash him a disarming smile or glance at him with her bright blue eyes and all was comfortable again. Things certainly never got boring.

They wound their way through the corridors, passing the deactivated security robots and turrets. “So he said the Chip is a 'data storage device,' but what does it do, exactly?” he asked as they entered the control room.

Seeing through the window at the other side of the room, she answered, “I think I can take a guess.” Stepping to the window, she stared out into the sea of inactive securitrons, row after row of them in a massive cave. Their screens were blank, which somehow made them even creepier than usual.

His eyes widened. “How many of them do you think there are?”

“I dunno. Hundreds?”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Crossing his arms over his chest, he tried not to let the worry show on his face.

Taking a deep breath and turning to him, she nodded. “You may be more optimistic than I am that the NCR can defeat the Legion, but from what I've seen, I don't like their chances. They barely held the Dam the last time. We've seen the state of their camps and towns near the border. You said yourself that they've spread themselves too thin and can't protect their territory.” Boone's lips drew into a thin line. “Even if the NCR can win, they will take heavy casualties. If they lose...”

“God help us.”

She nodded. “If there's a chance that this can help stop them, even if it's not in the NCR's hands...I have to take it.” Boone was still hesitant. She grasped his forearm and looked in his eyes. “If you're not with me on this, I'll understand. We can part ways here. I won't stop you and I won't hold it against you.”

As much as he hated to admit it, part of him knew she was right. Given the chance, the Legion would butcher or enslave everyone in the Mojave. They would storm New Vegas and make it their second capital. How long before they made their way further west? The thought was terrifying. Still, he didn't like the idea of all this weaponry being in the hands of anyone other than the NCR. But maybe it didn't have to be. Beth was an undeniably good person and seemed to be very pro-NCR. Maybe she would eventually see that they were the right ones to back against the Legion and she'd stop working for Mr. House. Regardless, he didn't want to leave her. He shook his head. “No, I said I've got your back and I meant it. We've come this far.”

“Okay.” She sighed with a smile, visibly relieved.

“But I need your word that none of this is to be used against the NCR.”

With a nod, she affirmed, “You have my word. Not one single NCR citizen will be harmed by anything controlled by me or Mr. House. Unprovoked, of course. And they still need to keep order on the Strip. If he can't agree to that, then he and I are done and you and I will stop him.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

Releasing his arm and turning to the console, she pulled the Chip out of her pocket and inserted it into the slot. Suddenly, there came a startling cacophony of clanging and banging from all around them. They stood and watched through the window as the army of securitrons activated one by one.

Boone's heart was beating hard in his chest. Glancing over at Beth, he saw that she was biting her bottom lip and her brow as furrowed with worry. He had a sudden, unexpected impulse to take her hand, but he kept his arms crossed over his chest. They stood still until the banging subsided.

“We should get back,” she said.

“Yeah,” he responded.

Without another word, they turned and walked together back through the vault.


	18. Help Me Make it Through the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Returning to Novac after their exploits at Fortification Hill, Beth opens up about Benny. Boone gets a fresh look at his old life before he met the Courier. A request breaks down barriers between the companions.

It was nearly dark when they got back to Novac, exhausted and dirty, despite having cleaned off most of the carnage from Fortification Hill in the clean cool water of the Colorado. Beth climbed the stairs up to her room with Boone following behind, each step feeling more and more like the earth was pulling him back down from fatigue. She stomped some dust off her boots as she slid her key into the lock and opened the door.

Boone watched as she dumped her pack on the floor and kicked off her boots as soon as she was inside. Next, she took off her hat and tossed it onto the couch; then she removed her ranger combat vest and threw it into the general direction of the dresser. Now in just her jeans and button-up shirt, she sat down on the edge of the bed and flopped back with a sigh. “One hell of a day, huh?”

Boone shut the door behind him, then dropped his own pack next to hers. “Caesar's dead. Still, it's not going to stop the Legion. Might not even slow them down.” He removed his aviators and set them folded on the table next to the old TV, then he took off his armored jacket and hung it on the coat rack. The First Recon beret remained on his head.

“Still feels pretty good, though, doesn't it?” she said, staring up at the ceiling.

His face broadened into a rare grin, right eyebrow flicking up. “Heh, yeah. That was some kinda stunt we pulled. Whatever happens from here on out, we killed that prick in the middle of his fortress. Ought to give the rest of them something to think about.” Sitting down on one of the old dining chairs on the other side of the bed, he studied her face. He'd noticed that she'd seemed distracted since they left the Fort's command tent. “You were quiet on the walk back. Thinking about Benny?”

Sitting up on her elbows, she inhaled deeply, then sighed. “Yeah, you know, when I wasn't thinking about the gigantic robot army, or all the legionaries we took out...” She shook her head with a thoughtful look. “I dunno. Seeing Benny there tied up, kneeling on the ground...just took me back to that night in Goodsprings when things were reversed.” Taking a long pause, she sat up fully and looked over at her companion. “I _begged_ him not to shoot me.” Her face flushed at the admission and tears welled up in her eyes, as though she were confessing to something terribly shameful. Shrugging one shoulder, she pursed her lips as teardrops poured over her lids and trickled down her cheeks.

Boone's posture and expression stiffened, his chest tightening at the sight of her tears. He had assumed that Benny and the Khans had bested her in a fight, but that's not how it went down. The fucking coward had actually tied this woman up, put a gun to her head while she begged for her life, and pulled the trigger. Then he left her in a shallow grave to die. Had Boone known the whole story, he wouldn't have been able to stand by and let the man go free. Benny would have paid dearly for what he did.

“He didn't need to,” she continued, wiping her face roughly with her hand, sniffing. “He had the Chip, but he did it anyway. I didn't even know who he was.”

He couldn't imagine anyone seeing her as a threat, at least anyone who didn't know her. As far as Benny knew, she was just a courier. She was so sweet-looking with her deep blue eyes, tousled hair, and freckled face. Why did he think it was necessary to kill her? Boone wanted to say something comforting, but as usual, he couldn't think of what to say. Instead, he moved to sit next her her on the bed and put his arm around her.

Leaning into him, she sniffled again. “I thought I was this bad-ass wasteland bitch. I thought I could protect myself.” She scoffed. “But, there I was, helpless and terrified. Like I was fresh out of the vault.” A far-away look washed over her face for a moment. “All alone.”

He gave her arm a small squeeze to emphasize that she wasn't alone now.

Taking another deep breath, she pulled the Chip from her pocket and studied it. “Then today...this time _I_ had the Chip. And I had to decide what _I_ would do. I had planned on killing him, but not like that.”

While maybe it wasn't what he would have done, he sort of understood what she was saying. She didn't want to be like Benny. It was one thing to kill armed legionaries, but it was another to kill an already bloodied and broken man out of revenge while he was tied up on his knees.

Wiping her face again, her tears seemed to slow. “Before House's Autodoc or whatever fixed me up, I knew I was living on borrowed time for weeks. I told you I was fine, but the truth is the pain was.... _intense_.” She glanced at him apologetically through her damp eyelashes. 

“I saw all the med-x.” Suddenly, her expression changed, like she was worried about his reaction. “I understand. It was obvious you were in a lot of pain.”

She nodded.

“But the amount you had left-over was...concerning.” Even though he didn't know a lot about medicine, it was apparent that she'd given that Powder Ganger enough to literally kill a man twice her size. He felt a lump in his throat at the thought that she'd been storing it in case the pain got to be too much.

“I know.” She looked down at her hands.

“Is that something I need to worry about?”

Looking into his eyes, she shook her head. “No. Not anymore.”

“Good. If it ever is, promise to tell me. Okay?”

“I will. I promise. And...same goes?”

“Same goes.” He gave her arm another squeeze.

With a sigh, she relaxed her shoulders. “I know I should have asked for help, but I didn't think there was anything anyone could do. And I wasn't really thinking clearly. I just kept going, focusing on the bastard that did that to me and making him pay. If I was going to die, I was going to take him out with me.” Idly rubbing her forehead, she sniffed again. “Then, once the pain was gone and my mind was clear, he wasn't as important. I didn't—I _don't_ feel weak anymore. ” She shrugged with a slight smile, looking up at him again. “I'm alive. I'm sitting here with you and this stupid Chip I never wanted. Benny's running through the desert, out of friends and without any more cards to play. I think I got the better end of the deal.”

“Are you worried he's gonna come after you?”

“Nah,” she said, standing up, eyes clearing. “I think we've seen the last of him. After our display at the Fort, I doubt even he's dumb enough to tempt fate again.” She patted him affectionately on the shoulder and smiled. “And if he is, we'll handle it.”

“I've got your back,” he said, with a half smile back to her.

“Thank you. That means a lot,” she returned warmly. For a long moment, she stood there as though she were going to say something more, but didn't.

“Hey, for the record, you are still a 'bad-ass wasteland bitch.'”

A grin spread across her face and she laughed. “Why that may be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.” Looking down, she studied the Platinum Chip in her hand again, still bloodied from its journey. She grasped it firmly and walked over to the open safe; she placed the chip inside and locked it in, looking relieved. “Ugh, I'm going to wash this day off,” she groaned, rubbing her hands over her reddened face. She picked up her pack and walked toward the bathroom.

Boone stood up. “I should go back to my room anyway. I'll see you in the morning.”

Biting her lip, she turned back to him. “Actually...would you mind staying? I don't really want to be alone...with the Chip.” She laughed shakily. “I know it sounds silly, but that thing has brought me nothing but bad luck. I'd feel safer with you here.”

“Uh, sure.” He cleared his throat. “I'll just grab the couch.”

She shook her head. “Oh, you don't have to do that. Besides, that couch is awful. I can't even sit on it. It's a big bed and we're mature adults. It's not a big deal.” Waving her hand dismissively, she quickly went to the bathroom and shut the door.

“I just need to get some clean clothes,” he called out, voice slightly raised. “I'll be right back.”

 

From the bathroom, she heard the door shut behind him and she sighed.

Turning the tap on in the bathtub, she took a rad-x tablet as she watched the slightly warm water flow. Sitting down on the edge of the tub, she could almost feel his arm still around her, making her feel safe and protected. It had been a long time since someone had made her feel that way, although, she'd never really allowed herself to be so vulnerable with someone before, not since she was a child, anyway. Not only had she let him see her cry, she had admitted to feeling weak and terrified that night in Goodsprings.

If she was being honest with herself, she hadn't asked him to stay because of the Chip. She didn't want to be alone at all, didn't want him to leave.

Now that she had time alone to think about it, she realized she hadn't _ever_ felt like this about someone before. There had been a couple of crushes on boys in the vault and a few trysts here and there since, but that was about it. Real feelings had always been easy to keep at a distance. If a guy got too close, she pulled away. If a guy left, it didn't matter because she didn't let herself care. But this was different: if _he_ left, it would matter. She would care. 

Of course she had bonded with companions in the past, but not like this. Normally, she only traveled with those who had inherent barriers to intimacy: Charon, Fawkes, Arcade. It was better that way. She thought Boone's situation and brooding nature, along with their intense quests for vengeance, would have been enough to keep any feelings from crossing the line into more than friendship, but she had been wrong.

It wasn't just physical attraction, although there was plenty of that. There were the times when he would say something funny in his wry, off-hand way and she felt like she was the only one he permitted to see that side of him. They had built a trust between them, telling each other things that no one else knew.

Yet, she couldn't shake the deep, persistent fear that no matter what she said or did, he'd eventually realize she wasn't worth sticking around for, that she would never be good enough. Something in her was deficient. If she wasn't good enough for her own father, if he could abandon her, what other man could ever truly love her?

Feeling tears welling up in her eyes again, she snapped out of it. She'd let herself get emotional about Benny and that was pulling all this other stuff to the surface. “ _You're being ridiculous. It's not like this is going anywhere. He's a widower, for fuck's sake!”_ she scolded herself. How long had Carla even been gone? She didn't know and Boone hadn't given any indication he was ready to move on. Maybe he never would be. After such a profound loss, she couldn't blame him if that were the case. Having lost so much herself, she knew how hard it was to rebuild after. Even if the feeling of loss might fade, it never really goes away. 

_“And besides, you're not even close to his type."_

Remembering the picture she had seen of his late wife, she knew there was no way she could ever compare with her. Carla was beautiful. _Really_ beautiful. The way women in pre-war movies were beautiful: glamorous with her feminine curves, soft golden hair, and beaming smile. Beth examined herself in the cracked mirror above the sink, seeing a slim, muscular figure, more useful for dispatching slavers and fiends than seduction. Her short, dark hair and wasteland-hardened features certainly weren't beautiful. Neither were the numerous scars that adorned her skin after years of survival out of the vault. 

“ _I might as well be a guy, as far as he's concerned,_ ” she thought, shaking her head at herself. 

Undressing and removing her Pip-Boy, she climbed into the full bathtub and let herself slip under the water. She held her breath and enjoyed the calming feeling of the engulfing water in silence, letting it wash away the intrusive thoughts. When the pressure became too much, she let the air out of her lungs and sat up out of the water to take a fresh breath.

No, nothing was going to happen between her and Boone. It was better for them to stay friends and traveling companions. Whatever feelings she might have would eventually go away if she didn't indulge them. If he did leave, she'd survive. She always did.

 

* * * * *

 

Boone exited the room and slowly descended the steps down to the ground floor, not sure what to think. He had slept next to Beth night after night for several weeks, but not in the same bed. Usually one of them was awake, keeping watch. “ _What was she expecting now?_ ” he wondered. She had said, “ _It's not a big deal_ ,” like they were just sharing a space and guarding the Chip, nothing more. But was that true? Is that even what he wanted?

When he first agreed to travel with her, he thought of himself as her protector out of gratitude for what she had done for him, but the more time they spent together, the more he saw how capable she was and how much he relied on her. Truly, he had never met anyone he would rather have at his side traversing the Wasteland, someone who he could trust to keep watch as he slept, someone to take out a whole Legion camp with. Together, they had done things he never thought were actually possible. How many times had he imagined seeing Caesar through his scope and putting a bullet in his skull?

Unlocking the worn lock with his key, he pushed open the door and entered his old room. Nothing had changed since the last time, except maybe for a fresh layer of dust. He had moved in here as an escape from the house in town he had shared with Carla, the one she had been taken from. Someone else probably lived there now. Instead of being a refuge, however, this room became more of a prison—he hadn't so much lived here as he had existed here, passing time, forgetting there was any other way to be. That was until Beth came along and broke him out. He hadn't expected her to ask him to stay with her tonight, but he was relieved to not have to be in this room alone for hours where all his desperate sadness hung in the air like a suffocating fog.

From the dresser, he pulled out some fresh clothes and went into the bathroom so he could clean up and change. He took off his shirt and felt his wedding ring and NCR dogtags against his chest, hanging from the chain around his neck. Pausing to grasp them in his hand, he thought about Carla, considering whether his feelings for Beth were disloyal to his wife. He assured himself that he would never have gotten so close to another woman if his wife were still alive. It would have been unthinkable. She had been gone for over a year, though, and the more time passed, the less he could stir the guilt.

Would she have wanted him to move on, find someone else? They had never talked about things like that, despite him being in the army. The letter he had written to her still rode in his pocket, encouraging her to find someone to take care of her if something happened to him. As much as he tried to suppress it, he needed caring for, too.

Blinking back the tears welling up in his eyes, he picked up his razor, lathered his face and shaved off the days of beard growth.

Until he had put his arm around Beth, he hadn't really realized how much he missed the touch of another person. He had touched her on the shoulder to get her attention, carried her and held her hand when she was near death, washed the blood from her face and tended her wounds after battle, but it was different to put his arm around her and feel her warmth against his side, comforting and familiar. It wasn't that he wanted to take things further—he wasn't sure he was really ready for that. It was just that she was so open and warm, he wanted to be closer to her.

The only time she had shown direct affection for him, however, was weeks ago when she had kissed him on the cheek back at the Lucky 38 and called him her hero. The memory of her soft lips on his skin made his stomach flutter, but he couldn't be sure she meant it as anything more than just a gesture of gratitude.

After he finished getting cleaned up, he dressed in his fresh clothes. He threw a few belongings and some extra clothes into a spare duffel bag, then slung it over his shoulder. Switching off the lights and exiting the room felt freeing, and he never wanted to go back in again.

As he slowly walked to the stairs, he heard footsteps in the gravel courtyard. It was Manny coming out from his watch. “Hey, man!” he called out, picking up his pace.

Boone didn't acknowledge him; instead, he went up the stairs and back into the first room at the top.

Inside, Beth was just coming out of the bathroom dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, gently toweling off her hair. He saw that her previously reddened eyes had mostly cleared and she had a sweet, yet sad smile on her face. “Hey,” she greeted. She tossed the wet towel over one of the dining chairs and ran her fingers through her wavy chestnut hair.

Closing the door behind him and locking it securely, he turned to her and walked closer. When he reached her, he tenderly put his hand to her cheek, bent down and pressed his lips to hers. He felt her briefly tense in hesitation before she reciprocated the kiss. Their lips and tongues caressed so naturally, it was hard to believe it was for the first time. His arm wrapped around her waist as her hands came up to hold onto his arms tenderly. Sliding his hand from her cheek to the back of her neck, he felt her soft hair between his fingers. When the kiss broke, she smiled, but looked taken by surprise. Part of him was, too, since he hadn't really been planning on kissing her until the moment he saw her.

After a minute of the companions staring at each other, he broke the silence. “I think we should get some sleep,” he observed as he withdrew his hands from her.

Dropping her hold on his arms, she gave an affirming nod. He switched off the light, leaving them in darkness except for the small amount of light from outside the boarded-up window and they both climbed into bed. There in the quiet dark, Boone stared up at the ceiling for a long minute, still unsure of what to say or do now.

Unexpectedly, she rolled toward him and rested her head on his shoulder, draping her arm across his chest. He noticed she wasn't wearing her Pip-Boy. Leaning his cheek against her damp hair, he smelled the sweet scent yucca flowers, starting to forget that he wasn't allowed to be happy. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close as he closed his eyes and whispered, “Good night, Beth.”

“Goodnight.” After a moment, she spoke up again, “Boone? Would you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

She sniffed and said quietly, “If you ever do decide to leave...let me know. Don't just take off. Okay?” Her voice broke on the last word.

Opening his eyes, he wondered why she would think he would leave, especially without saying anything. The tone of her voice told him not to question it. “Okay. I'll tell you.”

“Thanks.”

“I'm not going anywhere without you, though.”

“Okay,” she said so quietly, he barely heard it. Soon after, he felt her breathing slow and he figured she was asleep, so he closed his eyes again and let himself drift off.

 


	19. What a Difference a Day Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events of the previous evening have changed things between Beth and Boone, they just aren't sure how. An unwelcome visitor brings a little closure. Later, the companions return to the 188 and Beth encounters a friend.

When Boone next opened his eyes, morning sunlight was streaming in through the window. To his left, he saw the person lying next to him and a contented smile spread across his face. Beth looked so peaceful as she cuddled the blanket against her chin, snoring softly.

A few minutes later, she stirred and cracked her eyes open. Seeing him lying there startled her slightly. “Oh, hey. Morning.”

“Morning,” he replied and she let out a small laugh. “What's so funny?”

With a smirk, she shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Hm. What time is it?”

She looked at her left arm. “Uh, where's my Pip-Boy?” she said to herself, looking around. “Must have left it in the bathroom.”

“I didn't know you could take it off,” he observed.

“I usually don't, but when I'm someplace with a locked door, it's nice to give my arm a break.” Standing up and stretching her back, she walked into the bathroom. “It's almost nine,” she called to him, coming back with the device in place and a clean pair of jeans in her hand.

Boone caught himself admiring the gentle curves of her body as she slipped the denim fabric over her shorts, but looked away before she saw him watching, although now he wasn't really sure why. Getting up, he glanced at her again, wondering how she felt about the kiss and falling asleep in each others' arms. Oddly, he was still comfortable with it and where he would have expected the familiar stifling guilt, there was only a twinge. He actually felt lighter than he had in a long time.

Beth retrieved her boots from the spots on the floor where they had landed the previous night and sat on the bed to put them on when a knock came at the door.

“Expecting visitors?” he asked.

“Eh, it's probably just Cliff with breakfast.” She shrugged.

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “He never brought _me_ breakfast.”

Tilting her head to the side, she looked at him impatiently. “Just get the door,” she said, rolling her eyes and resuming tying her laces.

“Anything else I should know about?” he asked, with a mischievous grin, knowing full well nothing happened between them. The older man probably just had a little crush on the pretty girl. Opening the door, his expression fell flat when he saw Manny Vargas on the other side. “What do you want?” he asked with disdain, crossing his arms.

“Hey, man...I—oh...” the daytime sniper started, but stopped when he saw the woman sitting on the bed with both sides unmade. “Uh, sorry, I didn't know you had... _company._ ” He cleared his throat, his hands adjusting the red beret on his head.

“I don't. This is her room.” Without taking his eyes off his former friend, he said, “Beth, why don't you go get us some coffee?”

With a quick nod, she replied, “Happy to.” She jumped up and squeezed between the two with a quiet “excuse me” before bounding down the concrete steps.

“So what do you want?” Boone inquired in an icy tone, not sure why he was bothering to ask. He hadn’t spoken to to the man in over a year and hadn’t cared to, but maybe a part of him was a little less angry than before.

Manny scratched his arm nervously. “I saw you get in last night and I wanted to see how you were. I've been worried about you, since I haven't seen you in a while.”

“I'm fine. Anything else?”

“You've been traveling?”

“Yeah, so?”

“With _her_?” he asked, gesturing behind him with his thumb.

He sneered. “That isn't any of your business.” Manny was the last person he wanted to talk to about Beth.

“Hey, man, sorry...I--”

Boone grunted. “Just cut the bullshit. What do you want?”

Looking down, he sighed. “Well...I found out why Carla disappeared, that someone had her kidnapped. And that you figured out who it was.”

“Oh?” He kept his face stony, not wanting to give anything away until he heard what Manny knew.

“Yeah, No-Bark told me he talked to...uh, that courier about what he saw the night she disappeared. That along with Jeannie May being found with a bullet in her head in front of the nest, then you leaving town...it wasn't too hard to figure out.”

Calling her “that courier” sounded dismissive to Boone. With narrowed eyes, he emphasized, “You talk to anyone about this, you leave Beth's name out of it.”

Waving his hands in front of him and shaking his head, he quickly responded, “Nah, man, nah. I'm not gonna tell anybody.” After a moment of tense silence, he finally asked, “Did you...did you find her?”

“Yeah. She's dead.”

“Oh. I'm sorry.” Manny actually managed to look a little sad. “At the time, I really thought she just took off. ”

Boone wanted to say, “Bullshit! You didn't care either way, as long as she was gone.” Hell, he wanted to punch him in the face. Instead all that came out was, “Okay.” After several seconds of silence, he asked, “Anything else?”

“No, I was just....I am glad you're at least talking to me.” He gave a hopeful smile.

“Yeah, well, I'm done now.” He put his hand on the knob and shut the door in Manny's face.

* * * * *

As she entered the gift shop at the bottom of Dinky the Dinosaur, Beth greeted the man behind the counter. “Morning, Cliff.” The scent of brewing coffee was thankfully helping mask the normally strange smell inside the dinosaur: a mixture of stale air, old wood, and rubbery plastic from the numerous dino souvenirs.

“Hey, you came back! Must be doing something right,” he replied with a big smile. “Can I get you anything?”

“Yeah, two coffees, please.”

“Two, eh? All that courier work must be tiring.”

Leaning against the counter, she smirked. “You don't know the half of it.” As he picked up two cups and walked over to the coffee machine, she asked, “So...any news?”

Pouring the coffee, he turned back to her. “Actually, now that you mention it, just after you left town the last time, the motel proprietor was found dead in front of the dinosaur. Damnedest thing.”

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,” she replied, affecting a sympathetic expression. “How did it happen?”

Shaking his head, he handed her the cups. “Gunshot. Figured it was raiders. She was probably just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“It's a dangerous world out there.”

“You got that right. Our nighttime sniper took off at about the same time. We got a couple of people to fill in, but town's getting kinda empty.”

Beth raised her eyebrows. “Oh, you mean Boone? He's been with me since before I left Novac, helping me out with getting back a package that some New Vegas big-shot stole from me.”

“Oh, that's good. Glad to hear someone's looking out for you.”

She smiled warmly. “Thanks, Cliff. What do I owe you?”

With a wave of his hand, he gave her a friendly grin. “On the house. You just be careful out there.”

“Thanks. I will.”

“Don't be a stranger.”

Exiting the shop, she wondered if Cliff was just incredibly naive or if he knew more about what was going on than he was saying, but then figured it didn't matter either way.

The Courier sat on the steps outside the dinosaur with a cup of the coffee in each hand, sipping from one, waiting for the two men to finish their conversation. Idly, she wondered if this coffee tasted anything like coffee did before the Great War. It was roasty and slightly sweet when it was good, burnt and sour when it was bad. This batch was surprisingly good.

It wasn't long before Manny walked up for his shift, a pained expression on his face. He eyed her sideways as he climbed the steps in a way that made her wonder, since he had been reasonably friendly when she'd spoken to him previously. Things must not have gone well.

* * * * *

Boone sat on the end of the bed and stared down at the ruined carpet. After a couple of minutes, he heard the door open and he looked up to see Beth coming in with two coffee cups.

“Hey? You okay?” she asked. The door shut behind her with a push of her foot.

“I will be,” he responded gruffly.

“What did he say?”

“He actually had the nerve to tell me he was sorry about what happened to Carla. Selfish prick. The only person he cares about is himself.” She sat down next to him, handing him one of the cups. Looking into her eyes, their warmth melted some of his icy demeanor. “When Carla went missing he was the first person I told. He tried to hide it, but I could tell right away. He was glad.”

“That's really shitty.”

“Yeah.” Taking a sip from the warm cup in his hands, he sighed.

He did wish things had been different between him and Manny. They had been friends for so long and had once been so close, but talking to him this morning, it was like they barely knew each other anymore. Maybe if Boone were more of the forgiving sort, they would have been able to rebuild their friendship, but the feeling of betrayal ran too deep. When he looked at Manny, all he could see was that glint of a smile on the man's face when he heard Carla was gone.

Even if it hadn't been Manny who sold her to the Legion, he couldn't forgive him for that. The moment in his life when he most needed his best friend, the selfish ass didn't have the decency to think about anything other than what he wanted. Whatever the circumstances, a friend doesn't do that. By all rights, Manny should have come with him to Cottonwood Cove and maybe they could have had a chance to do things differently. Instead he lost Carla and had to wait over a year for someone else to come along to help.

He wondered if things would have been different if Beth had been there that morning he came back to find the house ransacked and his wife gone. Would _she_ have been glad? Glancing at her again, he shook his head at the thought. No, she wasn't like that. Regardless of what she thought of Carla, she would have grabbed her gun and they'd have been on their way. Having confirmed to her often that he had her back, she didn't need to tell him she had his, too.

“And you haven't spoken to him since?”

“Not until today. I wanted to punch him, but I didn't. Maybe some of your restraint is rubbing off on me.” He gave her a half smile and took a long sip of coffee. After a few minutes in silence, he asked, “You still glad you didn't kill Benny?”

With a thoughtful nod, she confirmed, “Yeah, I am. I do kinda wish I'd broken his arm for stealing my gun, though.”

“You don't think I should have spared Jeannie May? Do you?” It came out more confrontational than he intended.

“Oh, fuck no!” she scoffed. “That bitch took everything from you. She got what she deserved. Besides, she invited the Legion here. She was a danger to everyone in this town. In a way, you were just doing your job.”

“Thanks.” Rubbing his hand over his face, he stood up. “I've had enough of this place. Let's get out of here.”

* * * * *

Heading out from Novac toward New Vegas, they planned to stop off at the 188 Trading Post to eat and rest. On the way, Beth noticed that things between her and Boone seemed different than they had before. He walked a little closer to her and they shared random glances that would have been awkward previously.

Only the night before, she had been sure that there wouldn't ever be anything more than friendship between them, but now, so much seemed possible. And it wasn't nearly as scary as she thought it would be. Even if it wouldn't last, she was determined to be happy in the here and now.

One thing she was not looking forward to was the smug look of “I told you so” on Arcade's face.

 

 

When they reached the 188, Beth spotted a familiar figure standing alone, leaning against the overpass railing and wearing dingy robes that made her look like a beggar out of a Dickens novel. When she saw the Courier, she smiled broadly and called out to her. Walking over with Boone following behind, she greeted the young woman, “Hey, Veronica. It's been a while.”

“Yeah, seems like we keep missing each other,” she replied. “Who's your friend?”

“Oh, this is Boone. Boone, this is Veronica.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, same,” he said, seeming distracted. “Uh, I'll let you two catch up. I need to go take care of something. I'll meet you at the bar in a bit.”

“Okay,” Beth said, wondering what he had to do that was so pressing. “Got enough caps?”

“Yeah, plenty. Thanks.” At that, he readjusted the bag on his shoulder and walked on through the trading post.

She turned back to the other woman. “How are things back home?”

Veronica gave an exasperated sigh. “The same. I tried talking to the Elder about the stuff you told me about the Brotherhood back east.”

“Didn't go well?”

“He won't listen. He said that that Lyon's chapter has obviously 'lost its way.' I tried to tell him that they found a future, a way to be part of the world, a way to help people. When I pressed him, he called them 'traitors.'” She shook her head. “Our group is going to die out and no one will listen.”

“I'm sorry. Like I've said, your Elder sounds a lot like my vault's old Overseer. He kept us isolated, insisted that no one could leave, but they were only a generation or two from collapsing, at the most.”

“But he eventually listened, at least. Hey, maybe if you talked to the Elder, told him first-hand what the Lyon's Brotherhood was like, maybe he'd listen to you.”

“Why would he listen to _me_? Who am I? Besides, whatever connection I had to the Lyon's Brotherhood was years ago and over two thousand miles away.”

“I guess you're right.” The scribe sighed, dropping her shoulders. “Anyway, enough about my problems. What's with the soldier? Michelle said you had one with you the last time you were here and I'm guessing that was him?” She indicated the direction Boone had walked. “Didn't figure you for one to get in bed with the NCR.”

Beth suddenly felt her cheeks grow hot. “Bed?! Where did that come from?” she said defensively.

Veronica's face broke into a surprised smile. “I meant it as a figure of speech, but clearly, there's more to it!” She laughed. “So, big and burly is your type, eh?”

“I'm not having this conversation.” She started to turn away in embarrassment, not used to being asked such personal questions.

“Oh, come on! Distract me from my dull, tragic existence,” the scribe said dramatically, putting the back of her hand to her forehead. “Let me live vicariously! _Please._ ”

“Ugh, fine!” Beth relented. Part of her actually did want to talk about it with someone, although she never would have admitted it. “It's... _new_ , okay? I'm not sure what it is. Just don't say anything in front of him. He's kind of a private person.”

“I can be discreet. So, what's he like? Other than strong silent type.”

She shrugged. “I dunno. He's Boone.”

“I don't know what that means.”

Beth thought a moment, trying to think of how to describe him. “He's...you know how some people are all talk? Well, he's the opposite. He doesn't know what to say a lot of the time, but he always knows what to do. He's also completely honest. If he doesn't want to talk about something or whatever, he'll just say it. He doesn't try to skirt around things or tell half-truths. I like that. He's someone I can really count on.”

“That's so nice.” The scribe sighed wistfully.

“Yeah, it is.” Then she saw Veronica's mood darken. “Hey, are you okay?”

She shook her head. “The chapter is pushing harder for genetic pairing.”

Hearing that, Beth's mood darkened, too. While she and Veronica were quite different in many ways, they had bonded over their somewhat similar upbringings in their respective holes in the ground. Living in a closed society, the main purpose of pairing off was breeding, not love or companionship. Beth knew what it was like to be faced with the idea of spending her life with someone she didn't want. The idea used to keep her up nights. No one should be forced into a life with someone they didn't love, especially to only stave off an inevitable collapse.

Back when she was eighteen, there had been pressure to at least start showing some interest in dating, like most of the other girls had. Few of the boys in the vault were worth even a fleeting crush as far as she was concerned, however. Over dinner one night shortly before he left, her father had even abruptly asked her if she was attracted to girls. This was likely due to pressure from the Overseer, since it had been very unlike her father to talk about something so personal. It was one of the most uncomfortable conversations she had experienced before or since. While she did try to explore something with a couple of boys who showed interest, neither “relationship” lasted long. Overall, the effort had only served to make her feel more confused and isolated.

For Veronica, she knew the situation was far worse. Not only had she been kept apart from the woman she loved because of the Brotherhood's rules, she was now being pushed to pair off with someone based primarily on genetic compatibility. This wasn't the first time they had brought it up. Had things been different, Beth wondered if that would have been her fate, as well.

“Don't let them make you do anything you don't want to do, Veronica,” she said, knowing she was probably overstepping.

“Easy for you to say.”

“Yeah, it is, I know. And I can't say I know what it's like to be you, but I do know that it's not worth sacrificing yourself for their dying way of life.”

The scribe looked Beth in the eye. “They're _my family_ ,” she snapped. “I would be sacrificing for my family.” They stayed silent for a long moment, then she said softly, “I need to get back.”

“Okay. Take care of yourself.”

“You, too.”

She watched as Veronica walked away and wished the best for her. Whatever choice she made, it wasn't going to be easy.

Beth felt badly for her, but she was also reminded to be grateful for what she had. As hard as things were out of the vault and as much as she wished she still had family, at least she had the freedom to make her own decisions about her own life.

* * * * *

Boone walked through the busy trading post and down the hill where things were a bit quieter.

Underneath the overpass, he found the young boy in the same spot where he had been the last time. He cleared his throat to announce his approach.

The boy looked up from his book and gave a friendly smile. “Oh, hey! I remember you. Lizzy's friend.”

Boone was about to correct him, like he had before, when he realized that the kid was talking about Beth. The last time they were here, he had barely thought of her as a friend and had been too preoccupied to give the name much thought.

“Uh, yeah. How do you know... _Lizzy_?” the sniper asked, crouching down. The name sounded strangely child-like, not at all like the strong, confident woman he knew.

“She's been coming around here for a few years now. Always brings me thoughts and stuff.”

“Thoughts?”

“Yeah. My medicine keeps away the headaches.” He tapped the device on his head. “But it keeps my thoughts away, too. It helps when I fill my head with other people's thoughts.”

“Like stories?”

“Stories, drawings, other things--people had to think of them before they made them, then the thoughts got stuck inside.”

Boone looked over the collection of items the boy had around him: books, a globe, pictures in frames, an old camera, prewar money, a garden gnome. It hadn't occurred to him that all these things started out as thoughts in someone's head, but that was true, of course. He wondered how many of the objects were from Beth, since she had traveled all over and seemed to have an eye for picking up interesting and unique things.

She had never mentioned this kid, yet he seemed to know her well. It was strange. Boone had revealed so much about himself, yet he felt he knew much less about her. Then he realized it wasn't necessarily because she had been keeping things from him. Maybe he just hadn't asked.

“Did you want to buy another thought?” the boy asked.

“No, but I did want to thank you for the last one you gave me. It helped me a lot.”

The boy's face lit up with a delighted smile. “Really?! That's great! I almost never get to hear about how the thoughts turn out. How did yours help you?”

“You told me to go back somewhere I had been before and that there was someone I could trust. You were right.” The sniper didn't want to get into the specifics.

He nodded, as though he knew what Boone was talking about.

“Anyway,” the sniper continued, “I just wanted to say thank you. I'd better get going.”

“If you ever want another thought, you know where I am.”

 

 

Boone returned to the upper part of the trading post, noticing that the sun had just set. He found Beth sitting at the bar, drinking a beer and chatting with a different woman. As he approached, she turned to him and smiled. “Hey. Got you a beer,” she said, handing him a bottle.

“Thanks,” he replied, taking it and feeling the surprisingly cool temperature of it. “How'd you get cold beer out here?”

The woman behind the bar spoke up. “Dad tapped into the power lines coming from the Dam and got a fridge working. He got the streetlights working a few weeks ago, too. Cold beer and extra security have been really good for business.”

“I'll bet.”

The companions finished their beers and ordered two more, along with some of Michelle's “famous stew,” which tasted the same as the last time they were here. Boone wanted to ask Beth about the fortune teller kid, as well as some other questions about her, but there were too many people around.

As they ate, they overheard some of the traders and NCR soldiers talking. They seemed particularly preoccupied with one topic: the Legion's camp at Fortification Hill.

“I heard from the Rangers that a couple of rogue NCR troopers stormed in and assassinated Caesar,” said one man.

“That's impossible. No way could two guys take out that whole camp,” said another.

Word had certainly traveled fast, Boone thought as he and Beth sipped their beers and smiled knowingly to each other. There was no need to say anything. They hadn't done it for the credit or glory. Besides, he knew no one would believe them anyway.

One tipsy NCR soldier spoke up, “Well, if it's true, whoever did it and however they did it, I just wish I had been there to see Caesar die. What an asshole.”

This was met with laughter and toasts of agreement from the sparse, yet exuberant crowd.

“Yeah, what an asshole!” Beth cheered along, clinking bottles with Boone and others. He mostly kept silent, sitting back watching her smiling and laughing as he nursed his beer. It was nice to see her relaxing and having fun for a change, the last few weeks having been so stressful and tiring.

As he came to the end of his drink, he was having some trouble keeping his eyes open, so he whispered to her that he was heading to bed.

“Yeah, I'm tired, too,” she agreed, standing up. She said goodnight to the others and the pair walked up towards where they had slept before. The noise of the drunken traders and soldiers faded into the background.

“I had fun tonight,” he said. It had been a long time since he'd enjoyed being in a social setting. He had never really been one for crowds, especially of strangers.

“I'm glad. I did, too.” Suddenly, she turned to him, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. Bending down slightly, he returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around her. The feeling of her warm, soft lips against his made his heart beat faster in his chest.

When the kiss broke, he looked into her eyes and felt like he should say something, but couldn't think of what to say exactly. “You're...I...” Why couldn't he be one of those guys who were good with words, he wondered, instead of just being awkward and silent?

As though she could see the gears struggling to turn inside his head to activate his voice, she smiled at him and said, “It's okay. You don't have to say anything.”

He sighed. “Thank you.”

“Come on, let's get some sleep.”

Dropping her bag beside her mattress, she pulled out her duster and lay down, pulling the coat over her. He reclined on his own mattress, feeling less tired than he had before. Staring out the side window, he could see the stars shining up in the clear night sky.

After a few minutes, he heard Beth whisper, “Boone?”

“Yeah?”

“You cold?”

This late in the year, the temperatures did seem to drop quite a bit overnight and his armored jacket kept him barely comfortable. He hadn't thought to bring a blanket. “A little. You?”

“A little.”

“You could come over here.”

“Okay.” Getting up, she lay down next to him and draped the duster over them. Even though the coat was large, they had to be very close for it to cover both of them. Her back was pressed against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. She actually felt rather warm and he wondered if this had just been an excuse to sleep next to him. He hoped it had been.

“Better?” he asked.

“Uh huh.”

“Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight.”

He smiled to himself, soon falling asleep to the sound of her slowly breathing beside him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm finally done editing the previous chapters, nearly doubling the word count in the process. 
> 
> Big Thank You to ScrimshawPen for helping me out. I really appreciate it. I also encourage everyone to check out all of her fantastic work. 
> 
> Please leave me a comment to let me know what you all think.


	20. We've Only Just Begun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth and Boone return to New Vegas and take the next step in their relationship. Later, Mr. House has a demonstration for the Courier and she learns why he has placed so much trust in her.

It was after dark when Beth and Boone returned to the Lucky 38. As eager as Mr. House was to get his Chip and as eager as she was to be rid of it, she'd keep him waiting a little longer while she scrubbed the Mojave off her and had a decent night's sleep. Tired, sweaty, and grimy wasn't exactly how she wanted to make her triumphant return after all these weeks.

Not partial to having a robot hanging around watching her, she had asked Victor to remain in the casino and he complied.

After taking much-appreciated hot showers, the companions climbed into the warm, soft bed in the suite's master bedroom. There was still some light streaming in through the window from the moon and the glittering casinos outside, but the sounds of the Strip were dulled to near silence by the distance and heavy glass.

Boone moved closer to Beth and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him. She nuzzled into his shoulder and he kissed her forehead with a contented sigh. Then he lifted her chin and she felt his lips on hers, gentle and inviting.

With her heart beating faster, she returned the kiss, unsure what was going to happen next. Was he really ready to take things further?

Breaking the kiss gently, she planted tender pecks on his cheek, then chin, then neck, feeling him shiver a little in response as he ran his fingers through her hair. Her hands moved under the hem of his shirt and caressed his muscular chest, then moved to his back, pulling him against her. Rubbing his hands over her back, his breath quickened. Letting a breathless moan escape her lips, she savored the feeling of his skin under her fingers. As she pushed up his shirt, he leaned back to let her pull it up over his head and she tossed it aside.

Beth then grasped her tank top and pulled it up over her head, revealing her bare breasts. She stared into his deep green eyes. It was apparent why he so often hid behind his aviators, since the stony exterior he tried to project would easily be betrayed by the vulnerability of his kind eyes. Putting her hand to his cheek, she smiled and slowly guided him back to her, their lips meeting again. Embracing, their warm skin together was at the same time comforting and exciting, familiar and unfamiliar. As their warm bodies melted against one another, he seemed to suddenly tense against her touch.

She paused, pulling back. “Are you okay?” she asked in a whisper.

He nodded. “Yeah...yes.”

“We can stop, if you want,” she reassured him genuinely. “It's fine.”

Shaking his head, he confirmed, “No...I'm good. It's just been a while, is all.”

“Then let's take things slow,” she whispered. It had been a long time for her, too.

He nodded. “Yes, slow.” Closing the distance between them, he pressed his lips to hers and kissed her gently, then more urgently as they leaned back together against the pillows.

* * * * *

Boone peeked open his eyes and for a moment, he forgot where he was, as the feeling of the soft bed and the smooth, clean sheets was unfamiliar. Then he remembered and he smiled. Turning over, he saw that the other side of the bed was vacant. He sat up and Beth was sitting on one of the couches at the other end of the room, dressed in dark pants and a blue button-up shirt. She had just finished putting on her boots.

“Hey, where do you think you're going?” he asked slyly. “Had your fun, now you're just going to up and leave before coffee?”

Looking up, she smiled at him. “Hey, sleepy. It's nearly ten. I was going to let you sleep while I went to give House the Chip.” She walked over to his side of the bed and sat down. “If I wait too much longer, I think he might send Victor to get me. I won't be gone long, I hope.”

Boone couldn't remember the last time he had slept so late. Wordlessly, he reached one hand to her cheek, leading her to him, their lips meeting in a soft kiss. Pulling back, he looked at her warmly and replied, “Don't be.”

* * * * *

“Have you come to deliver the Platinum Chip?” Mr. House's voice was even, but she could hear a hint of nervous excitement.

“Yes, here it is,” she said, pulling the still bloodied thing from her pocket without hesitation, holding it up between her thumb and forefinger. She had thought about cleaning it, but wanted him to at least see some of the blood that was spilled for his little prize.

“Insert it into the slot in the console.”

“Gladly.” She followed his instructions, more than happy to never lay eyes on the Chip again.

“Such a small thing, isn't it?” His tone softened, as if he could almost feel it in his hands. “Yet so...capacious. So very dear. I spent decades hiring salvagers out west to scan for this little... _relic_ in the ruins of RobCo's west coast headquarters in a place called Sunnyvale.”

“Sunnyvale? Hm, sounds like a nice place.”

“It wasn't without its charms,” he replied. “It was near the heart of a valley brimming with technological innovation, back then anyway. The Chip was printed there on October 22, 2077. It was to have been hand-delivered here the next day. But the bombs fell first and the Chip was lost.”

Ironically, RobCo's east coast headquarters was still largely intact, she knew. Had the Chip been printed there, he might have received it much sooner. She wondered if he was aware of that. “So what happens now?”

“A great deal shall be happening—a cascade of events with you, Ms. Evans, taking a central role. But first, I have a demonstration for you. Take the elevator down to the sub-basement. There you will understand the significance of what you accomplished at the Fort.” She knew he didn't mean taking out the legionaries, or assassinating Caesar, or taking care of Benny. The Chip seemed to be all he cared about.

Beth hesitated. She wasn't sure what he wanted to show her, but part of her was curious to see what Mr. House had dedicated so much time and money retrieving. She figured she might as well see it through, since she had nearly died for it—whatever it was.

 

The ride down took longer than she expected, making her wonder how deep underground this sub-basement was. When the doors opened, she was in a large concrete room cut in half by a force-field of some sort with a platform in front of it. The air was cold and smelled of concrete, metal, and grease.

“Come closer to the demonstration area, if you would,” came House's voice again from the distance, though his image was nowhere to be seen. She complied, walking up the few steps onto the platform. The room beyond the force field was three stories tall with securitrons lined up on either side. Several more stood in the center of the room facing targets set up against freestanding cinder block walls. House then described and demonstrated the capabilities of the securitrons' Mark I operating system, which she was familiar with. She had seen their Gatling lasers and machine guns “defending” the gate to New Vegas from those unable to pass the credit check. “These are the securitrons' _secondary_ weapons.”

Then he proceeded to demonstrate the much more powerful “primary” weapons, which were now active thanks to the software upgrade from the Platinum Chip. Rockets shot out from the securitrons and the floor shook beneath her with each explosion as they blasted against their targets. She was thankful for the force field as large bits of flaming shrapnel were flying toward it that she otherwise would have had to dodge.

This was an impressive, and somewhat alarming demonstration of firepower. She wasn't sure what she had expected, but this wasn't it. And there were hundreds more of these robots in the bunker under the Fort. It was all quite unnerving and she really wished she had Boone there with her. Then she wondered when she had begun to rely so much on his presence for comfort and security.

“The City of New Vegas finally has soldiers worthy of protecting it,” Mr. House's voice said, sounding quite proud. “Please, return to the Penthouse. We have much to discuss.”

 

“I hope you now understand the importance of the Platinum Chip, why it was so critical to retrieve,” House continued as she walked back down the steps of the penthouse to the monitor. “I've since broadcast the upgrade to every securitron in range of my transmitters and the ones at the Fort are ready to be activated.”

Beth addressed the screen, trying not to reveal how agitated she was after the demonstration in the sub-basement. “Are you planning on going to war with Caesar's Legion _and_ the NCR?” She hadn't forgotten her promise to Boone, that no NCR citizen would be harmed. Now she was worried that she wouldn't be able to keep that promise.

“Why would I want to go to war against the NCR?” he asked casually. “Their money keeps Vegas in business. If their leaders would continue to honor our original agreement and respect the sovereignty of New Vegas, I'd have no problems with the NCR at all.”

“ _Huh,_ ” she thought. “ _Maybe something can be done about that._ ”

“Caesar's Legion will attack Hoover Dam any day now,” he stated. “In the meantime, there are other matters to attend to.”

“Such as?”

“There are several lesser groups that may either be helpful or problematic to our efforts in the near future. I need you to make some _interventions_ on my behalf. But one step at a time.”

“What I still don't understand is why you're trusting _me_ with all this. You don't really know anything about me.” After what happened with Benny, she was amazed he would be this open and trusting of anyone, let alone some random courier from the Wastes who had been shot in the head.

“Actually, I know quite a lot about you. You are Elizabeth Catherine Evans, born to the late Doctors James and Catherine Evans at the Jefferson Memorial, in the ruins of former Washington D.C. A resident of Vault 101 until your nineteenth year, you subsequently disarmed an atomic bomb, infiltrated Rob-Co's east coast headquarters, and single-handedly destroyed the Enclave base at Raven Rock. Need I go on?”

Beth's jaw fell open and she stared at the screen in blank shock. “How...how do you know all that?”

“Your Pip-Boy.”

She looked down at the device on her arm, her constant companion since she was ten years old. Suddenly, she felt very exposed, her whole life laid out in the open. She took a step backward. Normally, the files could only be accessed with her authorization, but this was a Rob-Co product, which meant it was a Robert House design. 

“When?!” she demanded.

“Victor accessed the data in Goodsprings. If I was considering you as Benny's replacement, I needed to know all I could. I was quite pleased to see that you exceeded the qualifications of the position in nearly every way. Your varying and impressive accomplishments show you to be an intelligent, resourceful, and reliable young woman. One whose skills have been wasted as a caravan guard and courier.”

Perhaps if she hadn't felt so vulnerable and shaken in that moment, she might have taken offense to his criticism of her vocational choices. Too many thoughts were racing through her mind, though. She started to speak, then stopped, attempting to grasp some words to fit the situation, but she found none. “I _do not_ know what to say.”

“I do apologize for the violation of your privacy, but it was necessary. As I said, I need you to take a central role in the events to come. New Vegas is more than a city--it's the remedy to mankind's...derailment. The city's economy is a blast furnace in which can be forged the steel of a new rail line, running straight to a new horizon. What is the NCR? A society full of people desperate to escape the reality of their post-apocalyptic existence and to experience comfort, ease, luxury....A society of _customers._ With all that money pouring in, give me twenty years, and I'll reignite the high technology development sectors to create technology that would be the envy of the Old World.” The passion in his voice rose. “Fifty years, and I'll have people in orbit. One hundred years, and my colony ships will be heading for the stars. I'm offering humanity a real future, one unpolluted by the wrath and folly of a bygone generation.”

Blinking at the image on the screen, she put her fingertips to her temples, then gestured with her hands. “That's what all of this is about? Interstellar space colonization?”

“Indeed it is.”

She had not expected this. It sounded unbelievable, even insane. He wasn't just going to make the broken world into something else--he was going to build a whole new one. “In the meantime, you'd rule Vegas as some kind of dictator?”

“I prefer the term 'autocrat.' I would rule as a chief executive. I would not answer to a board of directors or any other entity. Nothing to impede progress. If you want to see the fate of democracies, look out the windows.”

She couldn't help but glance out the windows and think of all the ruin outside: wrath and folly indeed. Running a hand over face, she was still trying to process all she had just learned, but it was too much. “Okay...if I continue to work with you--and that is a big _if--_ my Pip-Boy is off-limits from now on.”

“Agreed.”

She ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. “I need to think about all this.”

“Think quickly.”

* * * * *

The suite was silent except for metallic clicking as Boone meticulously broke down to clean and oil his Gobi scout rifle. It was probably the nicest gun he had ever used and it was even more special because Beth had given it to him. She said she knew he'd put it to good use and he had--after all, this was the rifle he'd used to unceremoniously assassinate Caesar. The thought brought a smug grin to his lips. It wasn't the long, arduous stalking kill he had fantasized about so often, but it was still satisfying and effective. He had even gotten to savor the scene for a few moments after.

The rifle he had been using before wasn't special, just something he'd picked up from Cliff's shop with a few parts switched out and a scope added. It was a tool, nothing more. He didn't have his service sniper rifle anymore, the one that had been with him for so many years though his time in First Recon, through the Battle of Hoover Dam, through his first few months as Novac's nighttime sniper. That one had gone with him the first time he went to Cottonwood Cove. After that, he could no longer stand to have it in his hands. The touch of it all but burned his fingers with grief and guilt. It now rested deep in the sand in its grave beside the house he had shared with Carla, never to be used by anyone again.

He shook the dark thoughts away. There would still be times when he would grieve, but not now. After the events of the previous night, his feelings were complicated enough at the moment without adding more in. Besides, Beth was meeting with Mr. House and he had to stay focused in case she needed him. He wasn't going to let her down. As much as he hated the idea of her going to the meeting alone, he reminded himself that House had gone out of his way to keep her alive, so she was safe.

The pieces of the rifle went back together with practiced ease. When he was done with that task, he stood up and paced a bit. He was unsure of what was going to happen next. Would they stay here? Would they move on? Back before they left the bunker below the Fort, House had said something about Beth having a future working for him, but she hadn't said anything about it either way.

There was no working clock in the suite, so he couldn't tell exactly how long she had been gone, but it seemed like hours. The almost deadened quiet of the suite was unsettling. To fill the silence, he switched on the old radio sitting on the table. The last few notes of a familiar song faded out and then the smooth, deep voice of Mr. New Vegas came through: “ _That was Peggy Lee singing her classic tune 'Johnny Guitar.' I don't know about you, but I never get tired of hearing it._ ”

Boone groaned.

“ _In recent news, the Mojave Express courier that was found shot in the head outside of Goodsprings has made a full recovery. Now that's a delivery service you can count on._ ”

“Recent” was a relative term, it seemed. News was a variable and unreliable thing in the Mojave, often traveling better through rumors than through what scarce media there was out here. Boone reflected, that had he heard that news story before he knew Beth, he probably wouldn't have paid much attention to it. People get shot all the time in the Wasteland and being a courier is a particularly dangerous job. Recovering after being shot in the head was the only thing that made it newsworthy.

“ _Coming up, let's imagine taking a little trip just the two of us, as I play 'Let's Ride into the Sunset Together,'_ ” Mr. New Vegas said. Then music began to play.

Boone's dark thoughts crept in again and he thought about Carla. It was a terrible irony that she and Beth had such a thing in common. He had done his best not to think about that. The question of whether his wife could have survived was dismissed the second he thought it. It was one thing to survive a couple of poorly aimed shots from a 9mm wielded by an amateur, but it was quite another to survive a precision shot from a rifle wielded by a First Recon sniper.

He forced the thoughts away again and walked out of the lounge and into the master bedroom. The radio wasn't distracting him as he'd hoped it would—quite the opposite, in fact—and he was growing more restless. Looking over the bookshelf against the wall, the books were very well preserved, much like everything else in the suite. Until they arrived, nothing in here had been touched by human hands in over two hundred years and the solid walls protected it all from the decay of the outside world. It was like a pre-war museum.

He had already looked over pretty much every inch of the suite while Beth recovered the last time they were here. Nothing had changed here since then, but everything felt different. Before, she had been just Beth. Now she was _Beth_. Thinking back, the feeling of almost losing her was much more pronounced now. If she had died, he would have lost more than he ever would have realized.

He heard the elevator ding and then heavy footsteps march through the doorway behind him. Turning from the bookshelf, he asked, “Everything go okay?”

“Grab your pack. We're leaving,” Beth announced sternly as she began throwing her loose belongings into her bag.

Her tone and expression made him ask, “For now or... _for good?_ ”

“I don't know.”

“What happened?

“Not here.”

“Where are we going?”

“Anywhere but here.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait in between new chapters. Before I moved forward with this fic, I really wanted to go back and revise the previous chapters and make them better. I didn't change many plot-points, but I did end up adding a lot of new content (probably more than 40%). Again, big thank you to ScrimshawPen for all her help beta reading. 
> 
> If any of you do go back and re-read the earlier chapters, feel free to comment on the new and old stuff. I'd love to hear what you think. 
> 
> I plan on having a much more regular update schedule from here on out. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading!


	21. Down To My Last Cigarette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After leaving the Strip, Beth processes the information from her meeting with Mr. House. Conversations about the past stir up difficult emotions for both her and Boone.

Boone followed Beth as she walked out of New Vegas, unsure of where they were going. When they passed the securitrons at the gate, he noticed that where there was once an image of a police officer, there was now a soldier with a helmet and a cigar. Back at the Fort's weather station, Mr. House had said the Platinum Chip was a data storage device. Was this some of what it was storing? The whole thing seemed very strange. Of course, everything about Mr. House seemed strange.

The two continued through Freeside and proceeded into the Atomic Wrangler. Beth walked up to the bar and leaned against it. James Garret smiled broadly at her. “Hey, doll. It's been a while. What can I get ya?”

“I'll take a sarsaparilla and--ugh, fuck it, a pack of cigarettes,” she said. “And whatever he wants.” She gestured to Boone with her thumb.

The sniper spoke up, “Uh, Nuka Cola.”

“Coming right up,” James said. “Any whiskey to go with those?”

Beth waved her hand and said, “No, I have some thinking to do and I need to keep a clear head. But I'll take that corner room upstairs. The nice one.”

“You got it.”

A girl with reddish blonde hair wearing a very low-cut short black dress winked at Boone from a nearby table where she was sitting on a uniformed NCR soldier's lap. Mary? Mindy? Candy? He couldn't remember. Feeling his cheeks flush, he quickly averted his eyes and glanced at Beth. Luckily, she was facing the other way. He really didn't want to have to explain why one of the Wrangler's prostitutes was winking at him the way she was. It had been easy to lie to the hooker, but he had the feeling Beth would see right through him. Not that he had done anything. It was just that he didn't feel like having a conversation like that at this stage of their relationship, whatever that relationship was.

James set down their order on the counter along with a room key and Beth handed him caps in payment. She nodded her thanks and proceeded upstairs with Boone behind her. The room was a bit more spacious and had nicer furnishings than the one he had rented here before. It even had a couch and its own bathroom.

Beth dumped her pack on the floor. Flopping down on the couch and putting her feet up on the coffee table, she rubbed her forehead as she stared down at the Pip-Boy on her arm. Her lips pinched together.

“Are you okay?” Boone asked as he closed the door behind him and put his pack down next to hers.

“No, I'm not okay. I'm pissed! I'm...” She let out a frustrated groan. “I don't even know what I am.”

“I noticed the securitrons seemed...different.”

“Yeah, upgraded.” She opened the cigarette pack and took one out, then pulled a lighter from her pocket to light it.

“Is that what's bothering you?” he asked, sitting down on the couch next to her and taking a sip of his cold Nuka Cola.

“No...well, yes, but that's not all of it.” After taking a drag from her cigarette, she held out the pack to him with a cough. “Want one?”

Boone had never seen her smoke before and was about to ask about it, but instead he took one and accepted a light from her. “Thanks.” Inhaling, the taste of the tobacco brought back memories of his time cooling his heels when off duty at Camp Golf. He hadn't smoked since he left the army because Carla didn't like it. Suddenly, he felt a little guilty.

“ _So I don't feel guilty about having sex with Beth, but I do about smoking?!_ ” he thought to himself, wondering what the hell was going on with his brain.

Taking another drag, she let the smoke flow out of her mouth through her slightly puckered lips. “House accessed the data on my Pip-Boy.”

Shrugging, he looked back at her with confusion. “Okay.”

“No, not 'okay.' I've had this thing since my tenth birthday. It has everything on it. Where I've been, things I've done, people I've met, holodisk recordings, diary entries. _Everything._ You don't touch somebody's Pip-Boy! Everyone knows that! Doing what Mr. House did would be unthinkable in the vault.” She clenched her fists, nearly smashing the cigarette between her fingers. “I felt like I was standing there in my underwear.”

Boone hadn't known anyone who used a Pip-Boy before, so he hadn't realized its importance. He thought she mostly used it for the map. “When did he do it?” he asked.

“Funny, that was the first thing I asked. It was back in Goodsprings. That's why he recruited me to replace Benny. Apparently, my _resume_ is quite impressive.” Her lips drew in tight around her cigarette.

He tensed up at the thought that House had taken advantage of her when she was in such a vulnerable state, but he didn't comment on it. She had made it clear that she could fight these kinds of battles on her own. “You don't have to keep working for him.”

“I know.” She stood up and started to pace back and forth, gesturing at nothing. “Ugh! I'm tempted to just leave. Maybe keep going west like I planned, but never did. God knows I have enough money now.”

This made him wonder where he would fit in with her future plans, since he didn't really have any of his own. Beth had given the strong impression before that she wasn't the type to settle down. Was he letting himself get too attached to her when in the end, she would just bail before things got too serious, like she did with the King? He could feel a lump forming in his throat.

Shaking her head, she said, “But...after everything I've seen, I need to make sure I made the right decision in giving him the Chip. House has access to a lot more firepower now that _I_ gave to him. And there might be more he hasn't shown me.”

“So what _is_ his plan?” he asked.

She sat back down. “You probably know that House was the head of a huge technology company before the war, right?” Boone nodded. “Well, he wants to start that up again with the ultimate goal of colonizing other planets in a hundred years.” He raised an eyebrow and stared at her. “I know! Insane, right? Except...maybe not.” Tapping off some ash into the tray on the coffee table, she shook her head and took another drag. “Maybe that is the 'future of mankind.' I don't know.”

Everything continued to grow so much more complicated than he had expected. “Did he say what he would do about the NCR?”

“He wants to keep control of Vegas, obviously, but the thing of it is, he needs money for his plan and that means playing nice with the NCR so they will continue to patronize the Strip.”

“That makes me feel a little better, I guess.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“What about Benny's plan?” he asked. If House couldn't be trusted, maybe that would be the best option. The NCR could take over from there.

“You mean _Yes Man_?” Mashing out her cigarette in the ashtray, she sighed. “I thought about it, but I just don't trust that robot. It also sounds like a recipe for having an even bigger target on my head than I do already. And if Mr. House really can do what he says he's going to do, who am I to stop that? As long as he's not hurting anyone. Except the Legion. He can shoot rockets up every one of their asses, as far as I'm concerned.” She laughed.

“Damn right.” Despite his overall feelings of apprehension, Boone couldn't help but smirk at the thought. He hadn't been paying attention to his cigarette and the long ash fell down onto the carpet. “Shit!” he said, stomping out the cinders before they made much of a burn in the pre-war flooring.

“You okay? You seem a little distracted.” She reached out to put her hand on his knee, but he stood up before she could.

“Yeah, it's just a lot of stuff.” He put the cigarette out in the ashtray, then walked over to the window and stared out into the alley behind the building, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Are you regretting what happened last night?” Her voice sounded uncharacteristically apprehensive. “If you are, that's okay. We can just stop this before it goes any further. Go back to the way things were.”

He turned. Seeing the concerned look in her eyes, he knew there was no going back for either of them. “No, I don't want that. I just...I didn't want to assume anything or get too...'clingy.'”

She scoffed with a laugh and relaxed her shoulders. “Why would you worry about that?”

Letting out an uneasy laugh, he shrugged. “Wouldn't want to scare you away like the King did.”

“Shit, I forgot I told you all that.” She shook her head with a smile. “Let's just say that it depends on the one doing the 'clinging.'”

“Okay....”

“I mean, he's a nice enough guy, but 'the King' is a rather ridiculous person, wouldn't you say?”

“I guess.”

“Yeah, I'll admit that until recently, I wasn't considering any kind of real relationship with anyone.”

“What changed?”

She bit her lip and seemed to be thinking about it for a moment. “Getting shot in the head was part of it, I'd say. Made me think that maybe I wasn't better off alone. It started to feel like taking a risk and trusting someone like that could be worth it. And if I were going to be with someone more seriously, I would need him to be a serious person, someone I can really count on. You know?” She stood up and stepped toward him, looking into his eyes. “Like you.”

Standing there stiffly, he wanted to smile, to hug her and kiss her, but something was holding him back.

She looked at him with confusion. “What's the matter? That stuff about the King doesn't really bother you, does it?”

Boone realized that wasn't the primary thing that was worrying him. “No, it's not that. It's just the stuff you said about going west. If things don't work out with Mr. House, is that your plan?”

“I was just spouting off because I was upset. Anyway, I'd figured you'd want to go back home eventually. You are from out there, right?”

He nodded. “I am, but I don't want to go back.”

“Why not? I didn't think you liked Vegas very much. It's loud, there are too many people...”

“It's also where I met Carla. And I don't have anything to go back to in New California.”

“I get it. It's not like I have anything out there, either. If things don't work out with House, we'll figure something out together. Okay?” She smiled reassuringly.

“Okay.” Boone smiled back, glad that she understood. He would follow her to hell and back, but there were some places he would prefer not to go. Putting one hand on her cheek and the other on her hip, he pulled her to him and kissed her.

When the kiss broke, she said, “I'll take that to mean that we're good.”

“Yeah, we're good.”

They sat back down on the couch together and Beth reached for another cigarette, but then stopped. “I thought these would calm my nerves, but they seem to be doing the opposite.” She flicked the pack away.

“So you are going to keep working with House?”

“Ugh, I guess. I don't really want to think about it anymore right now. I think I need to sleep on it and decide fresh in the morning.” She looked down at her Pip-Boy. “Except that it's nowhere near bedtime and I'm kind of starving.”

“Why don't we go downstairs, get a couple of steaks? Maybe a bottle of wine?”

“Better yet, why don't you go down, order two steak and whatever, then have it brought up here? I'm not really in the mood for a crowd. And I think that ghoul comic is working tonight and he has to be the least funny person I've ever heard.” She got up and reached into her pack, pulled out a bag jingling full of caps and handed it to Boone. “Here.”

Taking it, he judged by the weight that there had to be several hundred caps in the bag. He wasn't sure why she was giving him money for dinner, since she had to know he had plenty. In fact, he probably had more caps now than he'd had since cashing out his army pension for the house in Novac. Beth was an avid prospector and had no problem digging through the pockets of whatever legionaries, fiends, or raiders tried to unsuccessfully attack them. She was also a rather unapologetic thief. A good amount of what she “found” always seemed to end up in his pack, along with some of the money she got from selling things. “I'm not buying the whole menu. I don't need this many caps.”

“No, that's your cut of House's payment for the Chip. You did half the work, you should have half the caps.”

He started to push the bag back into her hands. “I didn't do it for the money.”

“I know. Ultimately, neither did I. It's just a nice bonus. Besides, you know as well as I do that money means freedom. I don't want you to ever feel like you're stuck with me because you don't have any other options.”

He scoffed. “I would never feel that way.” While he didn't want her to think she owed him anything or that she had to pay him to stick with her, just having that much money made him uneasy.

“Please, just take it.”

“Fine. But I'm just holding it and using it for expenses.” Ignoring her rolling her eyes at him, he dumped some of the caps into his pocket and put the bag by his pack. Then he left the room and went downstairs to the noisy bar area.

 

 

Since waking up in Goodsprings, Beth felt like she'd rarely had the chance to breathe. Now things were getting even more overwhelming.

Despite all his baggage and the extra complications he brought to her life, she was grateful that she had Boone. Not only had he saved her life on more than one occasion, she knew that she never would have been able to get the Chip without him. There was no way she would have gone to Fortification Hill by herself, Mark of Caesar or no. While there were a lot of things she would risk for the right cause, including her life, her freedom was not one of them.

The collar of the button-up shirt she was wearing was starting to feel uncomfortable, so she changed into a t-shirt and pair of fleece lounge pants she had found in the Lucky 38 suite. Feeling a bit more relaxed, she sat back down on the couch, folded her bare feet under her, and scrolled through the files on her Pip-Boy.

There were so many things Mr. House knew about her now, things she had never told anyone. Part of her could understand why he did it, as he had a lot at stake. At least he had told her the truth and hadn't tried to hide or lie about what he had done. She still felt violated, but was much less upset than before.

A few minutes later, Boone came back in with a tray. “You look comfortable,” he observed.

“Yeah, I figured since we were staying in, I might as well be,” she said.

After closing the door behind him, he set the tray down on the coffee table. On it were two plates, each with a brahmin steak, baked potato, and some carrots. There were also two cold beers. “The wine looked suspect, so I decided to play it safe.”

“Thanks. The Garrets must have gotten a fresh delivery in. This looks great.” She scooted the table closer to the couch and took one of the plates.

“Yeah, who would guess that a dive like this would have decent food?” Boone kicked off his boots and sat down next to her, taking his own plate.

Cutting into the steak, she took a bite. It was a bit tough, but still juicy. “Mm...glad my system eventually got used to meat. Only a few years ago, I'd have had to choke this down. Now it actually tastes pretty good.”

“What do you mean 'got used to it'?” he asked, taking his own bite of steak.

“We didn't have meat in the vault. We lived off what was grown in hydroponics and what the synthesizers could make, none of which was even close to resembling or tasting like actual meat.”

“Well, I'm glad you can enjoy it now. How old were you when you left the vault?”

“Nineteen.”

“Shit. And you were all alone?”

Beth nodded with her mouth full of potato.

“Why'd you leave by yourself?” he asked. “If anyone would, it would be you, but still.”

“It wasn't my choice. My dad...” She took in a shaky breath and set her fork down. It had been a long time since she had told anyone this story. “He left one day. We weren't supposed to leave the vault and the Overseer completely lost it. He sent security after me and everyone else he thought might have anything to do with my dad leaving.” She took a long swig of her beer. “These were people I knew my whole life. I thought it was just some misunderstanding. But then I saw the Overseer interrogating his own daughter at gunpoint and then...I found Jonas. They'd killed him.” Tears began to well up in her eyes. Even after all these years, the image of Jonas lying dead on the metal floor was still vivid. She had seen dead bodies before that, but those had died from natural causes. It had been the first time she saw someone who had actually been _killed_ and it was someone she cared about very much.

Boone's brow furrowed in concern and he put his arm around her.

“At that point,” she continued, “I knew I either had to get out or they were going to kill me, too.”

“All of that happened because your dad left the vault?”

She nodded. “'We are born in the vault, we live in the vault, and we die in the vault.' Except that was bullshit. I wasn't born in that vault.”

“You weren't?”

“No, but when my mother died, Dad wanted me to be safe, so he took us to the vault and convinced the Overseer to let us in.”

“He didn't tell you he was going to leave.”

“No. He didn't. He just left.” Her voice was constricted and she barely managed to get out the last sentence.

Putting his hand to her cheek, he wiped her tears away with his thumb. “That's why you asked me to tell you if I was going to leave.” His face flushed and his eyes reddened slightly.

“Yeah,” she replied weakly with a sniff. “Fucking textbook 'daddy issues.' So pathetic.” Rolling her eyes, she turned away from him.

Boone gently guided her face back to look at him. “Hey. You're not pathetic. You're the strongest person I know.”

“Sure.”

“No, I mean it. You were out on your own at nineteen, first time in the Wasteland, first time outside, but you survived. And look at you now.”

“I guess.” She shrugged. “How old were you when you left home?”

“Seventeen, but it was different for me. I wasn't alone. I was with a friend and I had the army. People looked out for me, told me what to do. And I hadn't been living in a sealed vault my whole life.”

“I wasn't alone the whole time.”

“I'm glad. I hate to think of you out there all alone.” He smiled and pulled her closer. “Tell me about them.”

“Well...there was Charon. He taught me how to fight, how to stay safe. He's probably the biggest reason why I'm still alive today.”

“He was a good teacher.”

“Yeah, he was.”

“What happened to him?”

Beth exhaled heavily, her lip quivering. “He died.” She hoped he wouldn't press her for details. There were some things she would rather not think about right now. Remembering what happened to Jonas was bad enough. “I miss him.”

“I'm sorry.” Rubbing her arm, he pressed his lips to her forehead.

“Yeah...anyway, our food's getting cold.” They resumed eating, staying silent for a few minutes before Beth said, “I had a dog, too. Found him in an old junkyard. His owner had been killed by raiders. He was the sweetest, most loyal dog you'd ever know.”

“What was his name?”

“Dogmeat.”

“Dogmeat?” he said with a raised eyebrow.

“I didn't name him! That's what his collar said. Did you ever have a dog?” She took a sip of her beer.

“Yeah, growing up. His name was Butch.”

Her lungs spasmed in a sudden laugh and she pinched her nostrils together. “Fuck! You almost made beer come out of my nose!”

“What's wrong with the name 'Butch'?”

“Nothing, nothing. It's just that I knew a kid in the vault named Butch.” She laughed and wiped a tear from her eye. “I think it suits a dog better.”

“I think so, too,” he said with amusement. “Did you ever go back home? To the vault?”

She was surprised he kept asking questions, as he had never really done that much before. “Yeah, once. After my dad died.”

“But you didn't stay.”

“I wasn't wanted and I didn't really belong there anymore. Even if they'd asked me to stay, I don't think I wouldn't have, at least not for long. The vault seemed so small after being outside. Besides, I had responsibilities, people who depended on me.”

“You didn't have anyone there worth staying for?”

She shook her head. “No, not really. My dad was the only family I had. I mean, I guess living in a vault, everyone's a little like family, but it's not the same. And after being gone for a while, things were so different. It was like I didn't know them anymore. What about you? Do you have any family left?”

He ground his teeth against his lower lip. “Yeah. Last I heard. Mom, dad. Two sisters.”

Beth's eyes widened in shock and her fork slipped out of her hand, clanging loudly onto her plate. “What?! You have, like, a whole family?” She shook her head in disbelief. “And you say you don't have anything to go back to?”

“It's not all it's cracked up to be.” Grimacing, he leaned back on the couch with his beer in his hand.

“Uh...okay. Next thing, you'll tell me you had grandparents, a house with a white picket fence, and big turkey on Thanksgiving.” He frowned with a nod. “Son of a bitch,” she breathed. She never even knew her own mother and here Boone had this whole family setup, like something out of a pre-war movie. She couldn't help but feel more than a little envious.

“Beth, my family is a bunch of selfish, toxic people.”

Her face fell. “Oh. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have--”

“It's okay. I get it.” He waved his hand and took a sip of his beer. “My sister Claire is okay, or would be if not for that husband of hers. My grandfather was the only one I was ever close with, but he died when I was fourteen.”

“Oh.”

Thinking about it, she couldn't decide if having a bad family was better than having no family at all. At least Boone knew who his family was and where he came from. She didn't know much about hers at all, where her parents were born, or who her grandparents were. The little information her dad had given her was either suspect or outright lies and she hadn't been given the chance to ask for more before he died. She might even have extended family out in the world somewhere, but she would never know. There were so many things she would never know.

She stared down at her plate, suddenly not feeling hungry anymore. “From the outside, having any family still sounds nice,” she said quietly. “But I guess I'll never know.”

“You could always have a family of your own.”

“No.”

“Why not?” He sounded surprised by her answer. “You'd make a better mom than most.”

“Don't. The Wasteland has enough orphans without me adding to it,” she said in a pained voice and she turned to look at him. “It's not what I want. I don't think this world is any place for children and I won't bring them into it.” Then she saw Boone's body tense and his hand clench harder around his beer bottle. “Shit, I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said that.”

“It's fine,” he said, his mouth barely moving.

“No, it isn't. I didn't mean...”

“Stop.” He stood up and walked to the window, facing away from her.

Beth felt horrible. While she had made the permanent decision to not have children of her own a long time ago, it wasn't her place to tell other people what to do in that regard. She hadn't meant what she said to be a judgment on him and Carla, but how could he hear it any other way?

After what seemed like an eternity, he said in a rough voice, “It's not like I can argue with you. You're right. This world isn't a place for children.” Finishing the last of his beer, he leaned against the window frame and stared outside.

She stood up and walked to him, unsure if he would accept comfort from her now. Carefully, she placed a hand on his shoulder and when he didn't shrug it away, she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him from behind. His stiffened muscles seemed to relax slightly against her.

“I...I don't even know if we were having a boy or a girl,” he said, his voice shaking, then he let out a heavy breath that sounded like a restrained sob. The empty bottle fell from his hand to the ground, but didn't break, and he brought his hands up to his face.

Boone had spoken about Carla several times, including about how she died, but he had never mentioned the baby before. Beth only knew because of the bill of sale she found. Of course, she had never said anything about it and she didn't know what to say now. There was nothing she or anyone else could say that would take any of the pain away. There was no making sense of that kind of loss.

Releasing the embrace, she stepped around to face him and put her arms back around him. He leaned in, clinging to her with his face buried in her shoulder. The fabric of her shirt under his cheek grew damp as he quietly sobbed. She tried to hold back her own emotions, but seeing him like this, imagining what he must be feeling, it was too overwhelming and tears started to well up in her eyes.

A moment later, she was surprised to feel his lips on her neck. Then he lifted his head from her shoulder and kissed her cheek, then her lips. His hands cupped her cheeks and his tongue slipped between her lips, kissing her more deeply.

She pulled back from him and looked into his reddened eyes. “Boone, what are you doing?” she asked.

His breathing was shaky and he seemed to struggle to formulate a coherent answer. “I don't know. I can't take this. I need to feel something else.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

With a furrowed brow, she studied his face carefully before saying, “Okay.” Then she leaned in to kiss him.

The next thing she knew, they were on the bed, urgently pulling their clothes off, kissing and groping each other's exposed skin. This was probably a terrible way for him to deal with his feelings, but in the moment, she couldn't bring herself to care. There was no bringing back what he had lost, so why not help him forget for a little while? What was wrong with that?

Beth's heart was beating fast and she could feel herself reacting to his touch, wanting more of him. She ran her fingers through his hair, the dark strands barely long enough for that. Her nails traced lightly over his exposed shoulders, then down his back.

Boone's reddened eyes were closed and he whispered her name as he kissed the space between her breasts. His hot breath and the slight roughness of his unshaven face on her skin sent shivers through her. He was much less reserved than he had been before, shown by how his strong hands gripped her hips firmly, but not roughly. Every moan she uttered seemed to encourage him further. The previous night had been slow, sensual, and almost timid. Now, it was as though he were acting from a primal place, one of hunger, loneliness, and pain. She could feel it, too. It wasn't just him. She wanted to forget as badly as he did.

Together, they pushed everything else away and lost themselves in one another.

 


	22. One Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. House contemplates the situation with his new protege. 
> 
> A nightmare makes Boone second-guess their mission. Beth invites Arcade along for the journey.

Robert House stood up from his desk and looked out the window, staring down onto the glittering Strip as it had looked more than 200 years ago. In time, the real thing would look that way again or perhaps even better. The possibilities were endless and his plans were finally falling into place after waiting for so long. He reached into his pocket and grasped the Platinum Chip. It felt solid and grounding, even though it was as much a facsimile as the rest of the scene that surrounded him.

He was anxious to move on to the next phase of his plan, but there was one problem: his new protege was being difficult. Of course, he had considered that Ms. Evans would have a strong reaction to him accessing the data on her Pip-Boy, but he had thought his reasoning would have been sufficient to dampen her emotional response. After all, she was a reasonable, practical person. Would she not have done the same in his position? From her files, he could see that accessing encrypted computer systems was somewhat of a hobby of hers. She rarely passed up an opportunity to gather information. He was the same way.

The surveillance he had in Freeside showed him that she had gone into the Atomic Wrangler and had been inside for several hours. It was reassuring that she hadn't gone far. It was likely that she would soon realize that he had only been acting out of prudence and she would return. Then they could continue their work.

Yet, there were still many unknown variables. House was used to being able to calculate probabilities within a narrow margin of error, but with her, too much was unknown, despite the available data. Her presence in the Mojave was a complete anomaly. It was by sheer chance that she was the one carrying the Platinum Chip and he did not like to leave things to chance. Combing through past surveillance, he saw that while she had been around off and on for the last three years, she had done very little to draw any particular attention to herself. She mostly kept to Freeside, frequenting the Old Mormon Fort, the Atomic Wrangler, and, up until a little over a year ago, the King's School of Impersonation. Occasionally, she had been in the company of the Follower, Doctor Gannon, or the King's cybernetic dog, but she was usually alone.

It was frustrating that someone with her capabilities could be right under his proverbial nose without him knowing about it. If he had known, he could have recruited her instead of trying to shape Benny and his ambitions into something useful. So much time and potential had gone to waste.

Unlike Benny, she wasn't motivated by money, luxury, or power. She valued loyalty, security, benevolence; she thrived on challenge. He could offer her all of those things. Yes, she would come back. From everything he could tell from her files, she was not an impulsive person who acted out of pure emotion. He was confident that she would consider his position and come around. He just had to be patient, which he could somewhat afford to be now that he had the Platinum Chip and the system upgrades it provided.

She would come back.

That is, unless the sniper's influence persuaded her to fully side with the NCR. It was useful that she was on good terms with them, since that would make things easier going forward, but he needed her to work for his interests first and foremost, not theirs.

Though perhaps the sniper was not as fiercely pro-NCR as one might think. Despite the Legion threat, he was no longer serving in the army. He had also only lightly encouraged Ms. Evans to take Ambassador Crocker's invitation to the NCR Embassy and didn't seem to press the matter when she decided to go to the Tops instead. Surveillance on the Strip showed that neither of them had gone near the Embassy since.

The man seemed to be quite loyal to and protective of Ms. Evans. He had confronted an armed securitron on her behalf. Then, not only had he stayed at her bedside as she recovered in the suite, he also readily agreed to accompany her to Cottonwood Cove to retrieve the Platinum Chip. Though some of his eagerness seemed to be due to his personal hatred for the Legion based on their conversations on the Strip and in the Lucky 38 casino.

Additionally, from what House could tell from her files, Ms. Evans functioned best when working with others. Alone, she hardly did anything of consequence. Perhaps the sniper could be useful, though it was a shame her ghoul bodyguard had not survived. His unfailing loyalty to his “employer” could have proved to be quite an asset. The sniper would have to be an imperfect substitute. At least as a soldier, he should be used to following orders rather than thinking for himself.

While House could not access the sniper's NCR personnel files, or not yet, anyway, he was not wholly in the dark concerning him. The man had visited the Strip on a few occasions in the past and it didn't take much effort to compile the video and audio surveillance of those visits. Craig Boone had been with NCR First Recon—that was already obvious based on what House knew of the NCR's uniforms. He had met and married a waitress on the Strip named Carla Flores after a fairly brief engagement. On his last visit, he and another man, someone named Vargas, had spoken about moving to Novac and about Carla being pregnant. That was well over a year before he returned again with Ms. Evans.

It was doubtful Carla was still alive. The man had seemed far too smitten with her for things to have ended otherwise so quickly. Childbirth was the most likely cause of death, statistically speaking. Not that it particularly mattered to House regardless. At least he didn't have to worry about that nonsense from Ms. Evans after her surgery in Rivet City years ago.

As much as he could tell about the sniper just from observation, he knew far more about Ms. Evans herself. He had poured over her Pip-Boy files in exhaustive detail. Had the information not come from one of his own devices, he would have thought much of it was a fabrication.

One of the most intriguing entries was from her infiltration of Vault 112. Before the war, he had met Stanislaus Braun on a few occasions through Vault-Tec. The doctor was difficult to forget: arrogant, brilliant, and completely insufferable. His work been particularly useful to House's endeavors, however. It was fascinating that they had both independently incorporated virtual reality into their systems, although House had not imprisoned any unsuspecting innocents into his own simulation. Additionally, focus on his work and being able to control his securitrons had kept him sane over the years, whereas Braun instead had grown bored and increasingly sadistic. House had grand plans for humanity and had made many great sacrifices to those ends; Braun's concerns were only for himself.

It brought a satisfied smile to House's face to think that the man had been outsmarted and defeated by Ms. Evans when she had been merely twenty years old. His ego must have been absolutely crushed.

With nearly a decade of additional experience, there was no telling what she was capable of now, given the proper incentives and resources. She was special. In some ways, she reminded him of himself: intelligent, resourceful, a born leader. A survivor.

Yes, she would return and they would do great things together.

* * * * *

Boone woke up gasping, drenched in a cold sweat. The room was dark and for a moment, he couldn't remember where he was. “Beth!?” he called out, the lingering panic from his dream choking him. Reaching out to the other side of the bed, he patted the blankets frantically.

“Boone? What is it?” her concerned voice came from the other side of the room. She clicked a light on and he shielded his eyes against the sudden brightness. Sitting down next to him on his side of the bed, she put her hand to his face. “Are you alright? You're completely soaked.”

He pulled her to him in a tight embrace, relieved to see that she was alive and unhurt. Usually, the details of his nightmares faded soon after he woke up, but this time, he could recall vivid details. They were back in Nipton. The burning smell of the bodies and rubble filled his nostrils. Vulpes Inculta held Beth by the throat with a gun to her head. She was begging him to let her go, her bright blue eyes pleading as she held a small baby protectively against her chest. Helpless, Boone could only watch from the cross he was lashed to. In desperation, he tried to call out to her, but his voice caught in his throat. The next moment, the legionary ripped the crying baby from Beth's arms as another legionary grabbed her and drug her away. It had all seemed so real. He could almost hear her screams still echoing in his ears.

“Boone, it's okay.” Beth rubbed his back reassuringly.

“Where were you? Why weren't you in bed?” he asked at a near whisper, still feeling choked and disoriented.

“I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep.”

She'd probably had a nightmare of her own. The conversation the evening before had brought up a lot of heavy things for both of them. He had given in to his sudden, primal instincts, thinking that it would push the all the horrible feelings and memories away, but it didn't. It just fused things together in his mind in a more confusing and painful way.

“It's okay,” she said, pulling back from him. “Lie down and I'll come back to bed. You want the light off?”

Looking at her, he couldn't help but see the images from the dream. “Turn it off.”

When Beth got up and crossed the room, he saw that all she was wearing was panties and his t-shirt. Running his hands over his face, he collapsed back down onto the bed. A second later, the light turned off, then he felt a dip in the mattress next to him. “You okay?” she asked as she put her head on his shoulder and draped her arm over his bare chest, holding him close.

He wasn't. “Yeah, I'll be fine.” Running his fingers through her soft hair, he could smell its sweet floral scent. “Try to get some sleep.”

“You, too. Okay?”

“Yeah.”

Although his breathing calmed, his mind didn't.

Boone wasn't sure how strongly he felt about Beth in real life, but in the dream, he had loved her more than anything. He had also loved their child--a child that didn't exist and never would. His mind was tormenting him with a version of his own personal hell: watching as those he loved were taken by the Legion while he was completely powerless to do anything about it.

The more he thought about it, the more he knew that as much as he had wanted to be a father, it was not a good idea. Even if this were a better world, after everything, the fear and worry would eat him from the inside out. Tears leaked from his eyes and ran down his temples, but he stayed silent and kept his breathing steady, not wanting Beth to notice. She felt relaxed and still against him.

He knew he wouldn't be falling back to sleep tonight.

 

* * * * *

 

There was a slight chill to the air when they set out from the Atomic Wrangler.

Even though she had decided to keep working with Mr. House, Beth felt no need to rush back to the Lucky 38 for her next assignment, regardless of what he said. After the blow she and Boone had struck them, she was confident that the Legion would need time to regroup before they made their assault on the Dam. Besides, she wanted House to sweat a little.

In the meantime, there were still a couple of Ranger Stations that needed the upgraded radio security codes from Tech Sergeant Reyes at Camp Forlorn Hope. It would be a welcome break after everything they had gone through. Heading further west, they would be much less likely to run into Legion raiding parties. As much as Boone wanted to eliminate as many legionaries as possible, she was surprised that he actually agreed that a few days off would be good for both of them.

As they proceeded into the northern part of Freeside, Beth spoke up, “Before we leave, I want to stop by the Old Mormon Fort and check on Bill. Make sure he's still sober.”

“Okay,” Boone said. “I'm gonna head to Mick and Ralph's for some ammo. You need anything?”

“Yeah, some .45s, if they have them. I'll meet you there out front after I'm done.”

“Got it.”

Boone headed east down the street and Beth went north toward the Old Mormon Fort. Despite her efforts to enter quietly, the creak of the old wooden gate cut through the hush of the early morning. The guards were alert at inside and nodded to her as she came in. A couple of the Fort's guests were milling around, either up early or still awake from the previous night.

“Morning, Beth,” a voice greeted behind her.

She turned and saw Dr. Farkas, the head of the Followers of the Apocalypse in Freeside. “Hey, Julie. I wanted to check on Bill Ronte.”

The woman's already warm smile broadened. “He's doing great. He's been staying sober and keeping busy repairing things around here. I don't know how we managed without him for as long as we did.”

“That's really good to hear. I'm glad.”

“Um...would you mind doing me a personal favor?” she asked in a quieter voice.

“Sure. Anything for you, Julie.”

“Would you get Arcade out of here for a few days? He's been due to take some time off for months now and he's been irritable for the last few weeks. Well, _extra_ irritable. Maybe if you got him out on one of your deliveries, he'd recharge a bit.”

Beth laughed. “And I'm guessing you want it to be my idea?”

“If you wouldn't mind.”

“Not at all.”

 

 

Beth approached Arcade's tent and heard some frustrated mumbling coming from inside. “Knock, knock,” she said, not wanting to come in unannounced. “Arcade? You in there?”

“Come in,” he answered.

Pulling back the canvas that covered the doorway, she found the doctor sitting at his desk with its usual covering of notebooks, science texts, and papers. He was blotting up some spilled liquid with a cloth. “Morning.”

“Beth,” he greeted, turning in his chair. “How are you?”

“I'm good. I was actually wondering if you were up for a little adventure.”

“I suppose.” His brow furrowed as he glanced behind her. “Where to?”

“I need to deliver some new radio security codes to the ranger stations. The next ones are for Foxtrot up in the hills.”

“You're doing work for the NCR now?”

“A little. If you haven't noticed, they need all the help they can get. Anyway, you want to tag along? I'm sure there are some interesting plants up in the hills you can collect to study for their medicinal value.”

“Um...okay.” He looked almost sad at the idea, which was strange. From what Julie had said, Beth assumed he would have jumped at the chance to get out of the Fort for a few days. “Let me just grab my pack and I'll be ready.”

Within two minutes Arcade was ready to go. He was always ready at nearly a moment's notice, she had observed. She supposed it was in case he was called away on a medical emergency.

 

 

Arcade followed her out of the Fort and down the street toward the east Freeside entrance.

“Beth, are you okay?” he asked, sounding concerned.

“Yes, I'm fine. No headaches, no dizziness, no nothing.” Knowing that he meant well, she tried not to sound exasperated at his questioning.

“That's good to hear, but that's not what I meant. _Personally_...are you okay?”

Puzzled, she nodded. “Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?”

“I just thought that....” He shook his head. “Never mind.”

When they reached Mick and Ralph's, Beth stopped, set down her pack, and leaned against the building.

“Why are we stopping?” Arcade asked.

“We're waiting for Boone,” she answered.

His eyes widened slightly. “Oh. So he's still with you?”

“Yeah.” Beth cocked her head to the side. “Ugh, so that's why you've been acting weird and asking me if I'm okay. You thought he and I had parted ways.”

He shrugged. “Well, what was I supposed to think? You show up alone asking if I want to come along with you. I thought you wanted company.”

“No, he and I are good.”

“Good.” He smirked. “So, are you and Craig still _just_ traveling together?”

Letting out a groan, she said, “Alright, no, we aren't. I'm not sure what we are, but we are... _more_ than what we were.”

She expected him to give her an “I told you so” look, but instead, he smiled genuinely and said, “I'm really happy for you, Beth.”

“Thanks.”

Pushing up the bridge of his glasses, he looked at her questioningly. “So why did you ask me to come along?”

“I thought you'd like to get out for a bit. I know that some days you hardly leave your tent.”

Before the doctor could respond to that, Boone emerged from the store. “Uh...hey, Arcade,” he said.

“Morning, Craig.”

“Arcade's going to join us for a bit,” Beth said.

“Are you sure you really want me to?” he asked. “I don't want to be a third wheel.”

“It's fine.”

“Yeah, it's fine,” Boone replied neutrally.

 

 

The three companions left Freeside together. As they walked, Boone stayed several paces behind Beth and Arcade, saying that he was watching their backs in case of trouble. She assumed he just didn't feel like being sociable, so she let him be. Arcade had obviously been cooped up alone in his tent too long, as he was particularly chatty.

He inquired about her and Boone's travels. She told him about how they had helped out the NCR in Bitter Springs and Camp Forlorn Hope, but largely glossed over their encounters with the Legion. When she had returned from Zion and recounted her battle with the wannabe legionary tribals to him, he had been concerned for her safety, more so than usual. Telling him that she and Boone had engaged in an active guerrilla campaign against the Legion might be more information than he could handle. 

Anyway, it wasn't as though Arcade didn't have his own secrets.

* * * * *

It was mid-afternoon when they came upon an old, abandoned farm near the base of the hills and decided to stop there until morning, since the house was hospitable enough and they likely wouldn't reach Foxtrot before dark. The mountains were a bad place to travel at night, since there were too many hidden places for creatures to attack from without warning.

Inside, Arcade prepared diner from some fresh potatoes and carrots, along with a couple of packages of pre-war Salisbury steak. As they ate, he and Beth recounted stories of their travels together over the years, but Boone was only half listening. As much as he wanted to hear about her life before he met her, he was feeling uneasy and distracted. He ate his meal mindlessly, lost in thought.

Arcade tried to engage him in conversation a couple of times, but he was in even less of a mood to talk than usual. He only uttered the occasional one or two-word response. At one point, the doctor asked how they had met. Fortunately, Beth was able to deftly change the subject, which made Boone immensely grateful she had the social skills he lacked. In his current frame of mind, he probably would have snapped and said something overly harsh.

Instead of pressing him to talk, Beth only looked at him with sweet concern, as though silently asking if he was okay. He attempted a reassuring smile, but based on her expression, it wasn't at all convincing. If they were alone, he could have tried to talk to her about how he was feeling, but they weren't alone.

 

 

Despite being tired from lack of sleep the night before, Boone slept fitfully and finally decided to get up and relieve Beth early from her turn at watch. He quietly paced through the house, continuously scanning the surrounding darkness through the windows. As the light of dawn was just starting to illuminate the desert valley, Boone caught a flash of something in the distance. Looking out another window, he saw what looked like the edge of a crimson flag peeking out from behind a boulder. Hurrying to the bedroom on the other side of the house with his rifle in hand and peering outside again, he was certain he saw some movement only a hundred feet or so from the fence.

Turning to the bed, he bent down and shook Beth's shoulder. “Wake up! We're surrounded!” he said, a little louder than he intended to. In retrospect, it probably wasn't the best way to wake her, since a second later, her combat knife was at his throat before she realized who it was.

“Shit, Boone! Don't scare me like that,” she hissed, lowering her knife.

“The Legion. They've surrounded the house.”

“What?! The Legion, this far west? Could you see how many?” She slipped on her boots and tied them quickly.

Looking back out the window, he shook his head. “I saw at least three, but there's gotta be more.”

“I'll go wake Arcade.”

“Tell him to stay put or he'll just get in the way.”

Beth laughed. “Trust me. He's more capable than he looks.” She hurried out of the room and down the hall.

Boone continued to scan the area and spotted two more legionaries advancing on the house, both armed with machetes. They had likely seen the movement inside and decided to move in now before their targets had time to prepare. “They're coming!” he shouted to the other room.

“I'll get the living room side,” Beth called out. “Arcade, cover the kitchen side.”

“Got it!” the doctor shouted back.

The window was stuck shut, so Boone smashed out one of the panes of glass with the butt of his rifle. Crouched down, he took aim and shot both advancing legionaries in a matter of seconds. From the other side of the house, he could hear gunshots. He just had to hope that they were Beth's. He then heard what sounded like an energy weapon being fired, which had to be Arcade, since the Legion didn't use those kinds of weapons.

Another legionary came into view, but ran behind cover before Boone could take aim. He watched the spot where he disappeared, waiting for him to show his head. Before he did, there came a loud banging from the other room that was clearly not gunfire.

“They're trying to kick the door in!” Beth yelled. Then Boone heard gunshots coming from her direction again. He ran to the living room and saw that she was shooting through the closed door. The kicking stopped and she reloaded her gun. “How many of these fuckers are there!?”

A second later and without warning, there was a crash behind them from the vicinity of the back door. Rushing into the hallway, they were met by three legionaries, two with super sledges and one with a rifle. Before the one with the rifle could react, Boone knocked the weapon to the side and punched him in the face, being too close to shoot with his own rifle. He cursed himself for not having his pistol on him.

“Retribution!” one of the other legionaries cried as he lunged at Beth, pinning her against the wall with the handle of his sledgehammer. Boone heard what sounded like the clatter of a gun falling to the floor, but he couldn't help her, as he was grappling with the first legionary, managing to get him on the ground just as he pulled out a knife. The legionary tried to stab Boone's chest, but the sniper caught his wrist and twisted it, causing him to drop the weapon. Another punch dazed the legionary enough to where Boone was able to grab the knife and plunge it deep into the other man's neck.

When he turned, he saw that Beth was still struggling with her attacker. She was attempting to kick him, but he dodged her and pushed the sledge hammer's handle harder against her chest. Jumping to his feet, Boone seized the legionary by the throat from behind with both hands and pulled him away from her. Fury burned through him as he squeezed with all of his considerable strength. Only a choked gurgling sound emanated from the legionary's throat. He heard breaking glass and more energy weapon fire coming from the kitchen, but paid little attention to it. Only when he felt the weight of the man fully collapse into his grip did he release him, allowing him to fall to the floor.

Before he could ask if she was alright, Beth retrieved her gun from the floor and rushed into the kitchen. He followed behind her. Arcade was sitting against the wall with blood coming out of his nose, his lab coat bloodied and torn, his glasses missing from his face. A green puddle of smoldering goo lay on the floor a few feet from him. He was holding his side and taking quick, shallow breaths.

“Boone, check that there aren't more waiting outside,” Beth said to him, sounding a bit winded as she knelt next to the doctor.

The sniper nodded and hurried back to the hallway to get his rifle. Outside, it was still and quiet with no more sign of the enemy. He still carefully checked the perimeter before going back inside.

“I think that was the last of them,” Boone said as he reentered the kitchen where Beth was tending to Arcade's wounds with her medkit at her side.

“Good,” she replied. “Are you okay?”

The legionary had gotten a couple of good punches in, but nothing Boone couldn't deal with. “Yeah, I'm fine. What about you?”

She adjusted her posture with a wince. “Bruised, but otherwise, I'm okay. Arcade has a broken nose and a couple of broken ribs.”

The doctor groaned nasally in response.

“I think a super stimpak is in order,” she said.

“No,” Arcade said. “A couple of regular stimpaks will be fine.”

“You are the worst patient, you know that?”

“Look who's talking!” He winced sharply. “Okay, fine. You win.”

Beth nodded and helped him out of his lab coat, then rolled up his sleeve. “I'm going to give you some med-x first.” Before he could object, she already had the needle ready. “Little pinch,” she said as she injected the medicine. Then she attached the super stimpak to his arm. “You're lucky your glasses got knocked off or they probably would have broken against your face.” Retrieving them from the floor, she handed the glasses back to him.

“Yes, lucky me,” he said sarcastically. As the med-x and super stimpak took effect, he seemed to relax.

Beth took out a regular stimpak and injected it into her arm. Then she looked over at Boone. “Are you sure you're okay?”

“Yeah, fine. What the hell were those fuckers doing so far west?” Boone asked through clenched teeth, scowling.

After helping Arcade clean the blood from his face, she packed up her medkit and helped him to his feet. In the hallway, she started going through the belongings of their attackers. Among the various useful items, she found a note on the one Boone had stabbed with the knife. Based on his armor, he appeared to be the leader of the group.

"It's in Latin," she said, handing the paper to Arcade. “What does it say?”

Boone's eyes narrowed. “You can read their language?” he said, not even attempting to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice.

“I didn't learn it from the Legion, if that's what you're insinuating.” The doctor took the paper and looked it over. As he did, his brow furrowed and his jaw set tight. When he was done, he lowered the paper and his eyes moved to look at Beth, staring at her for a long moment before he spoke. "It's an order to track Caesar's assassins, to capture the woman known as 'the Courier' and to either capture or bring back the head of her, quote, 'NCR dog.'”

Boone felt his blood run cold. Even though he knew he and Beth were despised by the Legion, and for good reason, hearing that they were specifically tracking her in order to capture her only intensified his already present dread.

“Grab your pack,” he ordered. “We're going back to Vegas." His voice was firm, but filled with obvious worry bordering on panic.

“What?!" she demanded.

“You. Vegas. Now.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. All he could think about was getting her someplace safe where the Legion couldn't get to her.

“What are you doing? Let go of me!” She forcefully wrenched her arm away and her eyes stared daggers into his.

“It isn't safe!"

“We've been fighting the Legion practically since the day we met. What's different now?"

Boone gripped her shoulders for emphasis, turning her to face him. "The difference is that they know who you are and now they're coming after you."

“If they come, we'll handle it like we always do." Her tone sounded too dismissive and casual to him.

“This is serious. We're going back."

“Going back to do what?” She pushed his hands away. “We have a job to do out here. I'm not going to go hide in some tower like a fucking princess and let them win."

Beth looked over at Arcade. His stern expression had intensified, but he just stood there staring silently with his arms crossed, as though waiting for them to finish.

She turned back to Boone. "For the first time in a long time, I actually have a direction. A purpose,” she said. “And it feels good. House was right. I should have been doing more. I'm not running and hiding. So do you have my back or not?”

“I always have your back.” He was confused and hurt that she would even ask that.

“Good. Now let's get going.”

“If I may speak,” Arcade said with restrained anger. “Maybe he has a point.”

Beth turned and glared at him even more intensely than she had at Boone, causing the doctor to pull his head back slightly and blink. “You think I should run and hide, too?! No, I'm going to Foxtrot. You two are welcome to join me, but I don't want to hear another word about going back to Vegas until I'm _damned_ well good and ready.” Her tone was measured, but she was clearly seething under the surface. Without another word, she stormed into the bedroom, presumably to retrieve her pack.

Arcade followed her. “Don't you think you're being kind of selfish?” he said from the doorway.

“Excuse me?!” Boone heard Beth exclaim.

“You heard me.”

“Exactly how am _I_ being selfish? I've been doing nothing except helping other people. Mr. House, the NCR, the Followers...”

Boone had to agree with her. She was always doing things for others. All he wanted now was for her to think of herself, of her own safety.

“And what about Craig? Or me?” Arcade asked.

“What do you mean?” Beth replied, her voice a little softer.

“You're not on your own anymore, Beth. Maybe to the rest of the world you're just a selfless do-gooder, but to us? You're my friend. To him, you're more than that. You let people into your life, that comes with responsibilities. If something happened to you, how do you think we would feel?” He paused and leaned against the door frame. “You're also not the only one putting their life on the line out here.”

If Beth answered, it wasn't loud enough for Boone to hear. Feeling his face grow hot, he didn't want to listen to any more of their conversation. He needed some air, so he walked outside through the kicked-in door.

Staring out into the desert, the words from the note echoed in his mind: “ _Capture the woman known as 'the_ Courier.'” He felt a wrenching in his stomach and his hands clenched into tight fists. The Legion had tracked them here. He should have been more careful. He should have noticed that they were being followed. He should have known the Legion was out there before the house was surrounded. 

The bodies of the legionaries he had killed through the bedroom window were lying in the sand, red puddles underneath what was left of their heads. Normally, he would have wanted for there to be more of them here to kill. Now, he just wished for it all to be over so he could take Beth somewhere safe and quiet.

He had brought her into this fight. If something happened to her, it would be his fault.


	23. Someone to Watch Over Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback shows how Beth and Arcade met. In the present, the three companions travel to Ranger Station Foxtrot. They still have a lot of air to clear among them.

“Excuse me?” a woman said from the doorway of the canvas tent. “I'm looking for Doctor Gannon.”

“I'm Doctor Gannon,” Arcade replied, turning around.

She blinked a few times when she saw his face and her lips pinched slightly. “Uh, hi. I'm Beth Evans. I was hired to guard you on your trip to the Follower's Outpost.”

A sudden scoffing snort escaped him before he could hold it back. Out of politeness, he attempted to cover it with a cough. Standing up, he estimated that the woman was both nearly a foot shorter and a decade younger than himself. Although she wasn't wearing the tell-tale blue jumpsuit, the Pip-Boy on her arm betrayed her as a vaultie. Had Julie meant this as a joke? He had insisted that he didn't need a bodyguard since they were short-handed, so this was who she'd hired?

“Are you sure?” he asked, trying not to sound rude, but likely failing.

“Yes, I'm sure. I may not look like much, but I'm quite capable.” Putting her shoulders back and her hands on her hips, she seemed to stand a little taller for emphasis.

“I don't need a babysitter.” She did look better suited to watching children than protecting someone on the road from fiends and raiders.

“Regardless, I was hired to do a job. You don't like it, take it up with Doctor Farkas. I'll be waiting by the gate when you're ready to leave.” With that, she turned and walked away.

Arcade left his tent and proceeded across the courtyard to the office in the western guardhouse where Julie most likely was, all the while wishing that if she were going to hire a useless kid, she could have found a dark-haired young man with a chiseled jaw.

Inside, he found her typing on her terminal. She glanced back at him as he entered. “Arcade,” she greeted in her soft voice, turning back to the screen. “Shouldn't you be on the road to the outpost?”

“Yes, but I wanted to talk to you about the 'guard' you hired.”

“Beth? Seems like a sweet girl. Is there a problem?”

“Well, yes. She doesn't really strike me as the 'guarding' type. How old is she, exactly?”

Julie continued typing, only giving him part of her attention. “I didn't ask. She came highly recommended.”

“From whom?”

“She was a guard for a caravan that set out from Colorado and she's done some work for the Kings. After that, I figured that guarding you wouldn't be much of a challenge. Give her a chance. If she's not up to the task, no harm done. After all, you said you can take care of yourself. Give my best to Doctor Alvarez. I'll see you when you get back.”

He didn't have a response, so he left without another word and returned to his tent. Pulling his backpack out from under his cot, already packed with necessities, as always; he only added the book _Plants of the Western Mojave_ that was on his desk. From the pack, he took out his father's plasma defender, which he had carefully wrapped in his spare lab coat. After verifying that the energy cells were charged, attached the holster to his belt. He had a feeling he was going to need it, despite Julie's assurances of this Beth person's capabilities.

Shouldering the pack, he headed out towards the gate where the girl was waiting, now wearing a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses.

“Let's get going,” he said, sounding annoyed even to himself.

“Sure thing, Doc,” she replied.

 

 

They proceeded east from Freeside. As they walked, he kept noticing that she would look over at him, staring until he glanced at her, then she would look away. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

“Sorry. You just look like my, um...someone I used to know.”

“If it's a former lover, I can assure you that it wasn't me. You aren't my type.”

“No, nothing like that.” She frowned and her nose wrinkled. “He's been dead a while now, in any case.”

“Sorry.”

“It's fine.” It clearly wasn't. “By the way, Doc, don't concern yourself. No offense, but you're not my type either.”

Before he could respond, Beth put her hand up and shushed him, drawing her gun and crouching next to a broken highway divider. “Shh. I think there's someone ahead on the hill,” she whispered, guiding him to cover behind her.

As if on cue, a few rocks came loose from the ridge and tumbled down the slope. Arcade pulled the plasma defender from its holster at his hip and clicked off the safety. Glancing over at his bodyguard, he saw that she was staring intently for any sign of movement. It didn't take long before a raider poked his shaved head from behind a rock and aimed his gun in their direction. Before he could fire, Beth fired twice. One of her bullets missed, but the other went clean through the raider's forehead and he rolled down the slope. Their cover blown, the other raiders came out and charged down the hill. Two of them had knives and the other had a crowbar. It took seconds to take them down. With one shot from Arcade's plasma defender, the raider with the crowbar instantly dissolved into a puddle of green goo.

The threat over, Beth walked over to the first raider and picked up his gun, then shook her head. “Piece of junk. Gun like this is more likely to blow the user's hand off than shoot a bullet,” she said, dropping it back into the dirt.

Examining the three bodies that were still mostly intact, Arcade saw that they looked to be strung-out and half starved. He felt a pang of pity for them. These poor souls weren't acting out of malice, but out of desperation. Only desperate people would take on two heavily armed travelers with nothing but a damaged gun and melee weapons. It might have been easy for him to handle them even by himself.

“You're not a bad shot, Doc,” Beth observed.

“You seem surprised.” He tried not to sound offended, since he supposed she wasn’t the only one who had made snap judgments based on outward appearance.

“I am. It's been my experience that doctors aren't usually well-versed in self-defense.” Poking her toe at the goo pile that had once been the raider with the crowbar, Beth looked up at Arcade. “That's an interesting weapon you have. I thought you Followers were all about peace and whatnot.”

“We are, but we will also defend ourselves, if necessary.” He hoped she wouldn't press too much about the weapon, even though ones like it weren't all that uncommon. The Van Graffs in Freeside probably sold plenty just like it. Still, carrying it made him feel somewhat conspicuous. He'd thought about trading it for something more conventional, but he couldn't bring himself to part with the only thing he had left of his father, other than his armor. That was best left locked away and forgotten.

“We should get going if we want to reach the Outpost before dark.”

“Yeah.”

 

 

As they walked, Arcade started to feel regretful for how he had behaved earlier. He should have trusted Julie's judgment. At the very least, he could have hidden his skepticism better.

“Uh, hey....” It took him a second to remember her name. “Beth?”

“Yeah?” she responded neutrally.

“I wanted to apologize for my rudeness this morning.”

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yes. I didn't exactly make the best first impression and you're obviously more capable than I gave you credit for.”

“Thank you, Doc. Apology accepted.” She smiled at him genuinely.

“Please, call me Arcade.”

“Alright.” Her smile changed to a smirk. “You must have had some very interesting parents to give you a name like that.”

“ _You could say that,_ ” he thought.

“Not really,” he said. “The Gannons were a pretty boring lot.” It was what he often said when anyone asked about his family.

“I'll bet most people think that. Whatever they grow up with, that's what they think is normal. Even if it's far from it.”

He hadn't expected her to say that and didn't have a ready answer. “Um...I suppose.” Except he didn't feel that way at all. From a very young age, he knew he and his family were different. He'd had to lie about himself, his family, where they were from, and a whole host of other things. The worst part was that it never felt easy. Even all the way out here in the Mojave, far away from all of it, he still had to be vigilant.

* * * * *

Beth listened as the sound of Boone's heavy boots receded down the hall. Taking a peek out the window, she saw him standing outside the back door.

“So, is it true?” Arcade asked, holding up the note he still had in his hand. “You killed Caesar?”

“Boone took that particular shot, but I was there, yes,” she confirmed, turning back to him.

“Why? Or for the fact of the matter, how?”

“It's complicated.”

“I'm sure it is. How _did_ you two meet, anyway? You didn't answer before.”

Beth sighed. She knew that this question was going to come back at some point, though she had hoped to put it off for a while longer. “He asked me to do him a favor and I did,” she said.

He narrowed his eyes at her response, his arms still folded across his chest. “What kind of 'favor'? Something having to do with the Legion?”

“Indirectly. It's not my place to say.” She wished he would just drop it.

“And why not?”

“Because it's _his_ personal business that he trusted me with. And please don't ask him about it either, okay?” It wasn't just because it was personal. She didn't particularly want to hear Arcade's opinion on the fact that the “favor” was luring an unsuspecting, albeit very guilty, woman into the crosshairs of Boone's sniper rifle. Not to mention that Boone had trusted her with this task after a conversation that lasted less than five minutes. Fortunately for everyone, he had chosen the right person to trust. If Beth had it to do over again, she would without hesitation. She was reasonably confident, however, that Arcade wouldn't agree with that course of action, instead likely advocating for a fair trial overseen by the proper authorities. While his idealism was admirable, she often didn't share it. “We are _all_ allowed some privacy, aren't we?” she pointed out.

Arcade's eyebrow twitched and he stared at her a moment before surrendering with a sigh. “Fine.”

 

 

The walk to Foxtrot was tense. Stealing glances at Boone, even with his aviators on, she could tell he was still upset, but more sad and worried than angry. The tension in his jaw and the way he held his shoulders gave him away. Maybe that's why he hid behind those glasses all the time: he had a terrible poker face.

Arcade's wasn't much better. She could tell he was more on the angry and frustrated side, which made her uneasy. She hadn't wanted him to know that she and Boone had been fighting the Legion, at least, not yet. She had always been reluctant to worry or disappoint him. Since he had his own secrets, it felt okay to keep things from him.

On the other hand, whatever she didn't know about Boone, she knew she could learn eventually. He had already revealed his darkest secrets to her, ones no one else knew. It was difficult to reciprocate sometimes, though. There were still so many things he didn't know about her, yet he wasn't to ask a lot of probing questions. Part of her wanted to tell him everything, but another part of her held back. There were things still kept in that box in the back of her mind, the one she tried not to open. It only came unlocked when she was asleep.

The two men couldn't see the tears escaping from her eyes and she was glad of that. She had mostly thought about herself, how she would feel if he left. She hadn't given as much thought to how Boone would feel if something happened to her. For a long time, she had kept her distance from people for her own sake, but maybe it had been selfish to even get close to him.

It was too late, now, though.

She had never cared for someone the way she cared for him and no one had ever cared for her the way he did. Arcade was right. Letting Boone into her life came with responsibilities. They owed it to each other to be careful. While she didn't appreciate how he went about it, she knew he had only been trying to protect her when he grabbed her arm and insisted they go back to Vegas.

Glancing at Boone again from behind her sunglasses, she wished they were alone so they could talk.

* * * * *

They reached Foxtrot at around mid-day. The cool air of the mountains was a nice change from the normal scorching heat of the dry desert. Beth went to go talk to the station's comm officer while Boone and Arcade stood back and waited.

Boone noticed Arcade glaring. “Problem?” Boone asked.

“What the hell were the two of you thinking raiding that Legion camp?” the doctor erupted, yet somehow keeping his voice low.

Defensively crossing his arms over his chest, he stared back at Arcade. “We had our reasons.”

“You know what the Legion does. What could have happened. Don't you?”

“I'm aware,” he answered through gritted teeth.

“And now they're after her. Do you have any idea--”

“Stop!” he growled. He reminded himself that this was Beth's friend and she probably wouldn't like it if he punched Arcade in the face.

The truth was that he didn't know what would happen to her if they captured her now. He couldn't imagine what the Legion would do to someone who had so openly attacked them, especially if that person was also a woman. There were places only the sick monsters of the Legion could go. Even just hearing the order to capture her read out loud had been enough for him to get the overwhelming impulse to pick her up and run back to Vegas.

“What possessed the two of you to go there in the first place?”

He wished Arcade would just leave him alone. If he wanted answers, he should talk to Beth. “The guy who shot her, that's where he went.”

“That's it? That's the whole reason?” He seemed baffled.

Boone certainly didn't want to talk about the reason for his personal vendetta against the Legion. He knew that tracking down Benny wasn't Beth's only reason for going along, but wasn't exactly sure what all her reasons were.

“ _Did she do it for me?_ ” he wondered.

Her invitation to drive the Legion out of Nelson was one of the main reasons he agreed to go along with her in the first place. Had she continued fighting them because she didn't think he would stick around otherwise? Then he wondered himself if he would have stuck with her as long as he had if they hadn't fought the Legion early on. He wanted to believe that he would have.

Arcade was staring at him, waiting for an answer. It was getting harder and harder not to just tell him to fuck off. Fortunately, Beth was walking back over to them, which caused the doctor to drop his line of questioning.

“Ranger Kudlow insists she never filed that report,” she said. “Something funny is going on. We need to talk to Reyes at Forlorn Hope.”

“Are you crazy?” Arcade asked, sounding exasperated.

“That's too close to the Legion,” Boone said, as though finishing the other man's thought.

Beth sighed. “I know, but I don't see that we have much choice. Someone is messing with NCR intelligence and if we don't do something about it, who will?”

“The NCR can find someone else to do it.” Even though he knew that wasn't likely, he didn't much care.

“But they won't and what if there's more to it? I know you two are worried about me, but you both have to realize that the only way I or anyone else in the Mojave is going to be safe is if the Legion is defeated. If they win, nothing will matter. Vegas itself might not even be safe.”

As much as he wished she weren't, Boone knew she was right. If the Legion took over the Dam, the rest of the Mojave would follow.

“How about this?” she offered. “We'll stay here tonight. With the three of us and the dozen or so Rangers stationed here, it should be safe enough. Tomorrow night, we'll stay in Vegas, then go on to Forlorn Hope.”

“Can't you just radio the info to Reyes?” Arcade asked as though it were obvious.

“I would, but I don't know who's listening. If someone is manipulating the intelligence on purpose, I don't want them to know we're on to them.”

“Fine, we'll go with your plan,” Boone agreed reluctantly.

 

* * * * *

 

As the sun set behind the hills, she watched Arcade from the other side of the small camp as she finished her dinner. He was eating at a table by himself with a book, but she noticed that he hadn't turned a page or touched his food for nearly fifteen minutes. His eyes glanced up and settled on her, staring as though trying to figure something out. Somewhat reluctantly, she closed the distance and sat across from him.

“Hey,” she said. “You still angry with me?”

He sighed. “I wasn't really angry with you, _per se_. I was...frustrated with the situation.”

She tilted her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Okay, fine. I was a little angry.” He put his book down on the table and closed it. “Mostly, I'm confused. I just don't know what's going on with you lately. Working for Mr. House is one thing—which we need to talk about later, by the way,” he added, pushing up the bridge of his glasses. “But fighting the Legion? That's not you. You don't shy away from getting your hands dirty, but I've never heard you even have much of an opinion on war or politics. Now you've thrown yourself into it like this.”

“ _You'd be surprised,_ ” she thought.

“I've never seen you in a relationship before either, which I thought was a good development, but is this _his_ influence? That's not like you either, to let someone change you, man or otherwise. I don't know what to think.”

She wasn't sure what to say. While she could have chronicled to him her various exploits in the Capital Wasteland, that was a _very_ long conversation she didn't much want to have. Talking to Boone was one thing, since he let her talk without digging deeper than she wanted, but she knew Arcade would ask more questions about things she would rather not discuss or even think about. “It's not just Boone. It's...a lot of things.”

“A major traumatic experience like the one you went through in Goodsprings would have an effect on anyone.”

“It's not like I've never been shot before,” she said with a dismissive shrug.

“This was different. You don't have to pretend like it wasn't,” he said gently.

“Yeah.” Beth averted her eyes.

“So, the guy who did it, he was at the Legion camp?”

“Who told you that?” she demanded, her eyes focusing back to him.

“Craig.”

“Son of a bitch,” she breathed.

“Don't be mad at him, I pressed him.”

“I asked you not to do that.”

“No, you asked me not to ask him how you two met, which I didn't.”

She sucked in the side of her cheek in annoyance, but she couldn't really argue. Though she wished Arcade hadn't pestered Boone about this. Couldn't he tell that Boone was already upset enough?

“So is that why you went? To track down the man who shot you?”

“Yes...and no. Maybe I had something to prove to myself.”

“Where _does_ Craig fit into all this?” he asked seriously. “Would you be doing all this if not for him?”

Beth picked up a stray Fancy Lads snack wrapper and folded it absentmindedly. “I don't know. Probably not. But that doesn't mean it's not my choice or that it's the wrong thing.”

“I just don't want to see you become a different person. I like you the way you are.” He gave her a brief grin. “I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't have a lot of people in my life I really count as friends.”

“Me neither.” She smiled back at him. “Cra—Boone is a good man, Arcade. Try to have faith in me that I wouldn't put my trust, or my life, or especially my... _affections_ in the hands of the wrong person. He doesn't want me to get hurt any more than you do. The bottom line is that I'm doing all this because I believe it's important.”

“Yes, it is important, but it's also dangerous.” His eyes looked back at her with worry. “Promise me you'll be careful.”

“I will. I promise.”

“And I do want to help, if I can.”

“Of course. We're going to need all the doctors we can get.”

He opened his mouth slightly and his jaw stiffened. It looked for a moment like he wanted to say something important, but then he dropped his shoulders and sighed. “Right. You should go talk to Craig. I'll see you in the morning.”

She'd seen him do that before and she wanted to say, “Maybe if you didn't hold yourself back so much, you wouldn't be so lonely,” but didn't. After all, until very recently, she supposed she was the same way. So instead she just said, “Night.”

“Good night.”

Standing up, a sharp wind cut through her thin button-up shirt and she shivered. She crossed the camp to retrieve her duster from her pack, feeling relieved that the tension between her and Arcade had mostly dissipated during their conversation. Things felt more or less back to normal. At least, as normal as things could be with the threat of the Legion looming over them.

She took a some time to warm herself by the crackling fire before going to find Boone.

* * * * *

Boone sat alone in the falling darkness, facing out into the woods with his rifle in his hand. An open can of beans sat next to him, but he didn't feel like eating.

Despite what Beth had tried to convince him weeks ago back in Bitter Springs, he still couldn't help but think he still had bad things coming. Maybe Beth wasn't meant to save him. Maybe the _whatever_ that was after him was lulling him into complacency, waiting until he got close to her, then it would take her away, just like it had Carla. Only this time, he didn't think even a need for vengeance could keep him going. He didn't have it in him anymore.

“ _I never should have gotten close to either of them,_ ” he thought, the sinking feeling of guilt and despair in his gut. “ _Maybe I should leave. She'd be better off without me._ ”

That thought was fleeting, though. If he left her now and something happened to her, he'd never forgive himself for not being there to protect her. He hadn't been there to protect Carla and that thought still haunted him every day.

He wasn't just staying to protect her, he knew. As selfish as he knew it was, he didn't want to leave her. Not only did being with her make him feel alive, she actually made him want to be. He hadn't felt that way in a very long time. It wasn't just because Jeannie May was dead or that they had fought the Legion. It was her. He recognized that now.

Besides, he knew that if he left, it would hurt her and he could never bring himself to do that.

Rubbing his tired eyes, he suppressed a yawn. Hardly sleeping for the last two nights was taking its toll on him. The fatigue certainly wasn't helping him feel less defeated.

“Boone?” he heard Beth's voice from behind him say.

His throat felt tight, so he grunted in response.

“Can we talk?”

Sliding over to the side of the log he was sitting on to make room for her, he wordlessly gestured for her to sit.

She sat down and stared out into the dark, pulling her duster around her in defense against the cold. “I wanted to say I'm sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” he asked.

“I shouldn't have been so dismissive of your concerns.”

“Okay.”

“But I do wish you'd have talked to me instead of trying to manhandle me back to Vegas.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

She sighed heavily. “I know and I get that, but like that, it's not a help. It's a liability. You aren't focused on the mission if all you're worrying about is me. You're going to get yourself, or maybe both of us, killed.”

He hadn't thought about it that way, but she had a point. An unfocused soldier is a liability. If he was going to stay with her, he needed to figure out a way to deal with his fear of losing her in a way that didn't put her life in more danger.

“I don't want a bodyguard. I want a partner,” she said, putting her hand in his. “I need you to have faith in me, that I can take care of myself, at least sometimes.”

“It's not that I don't have faith in you. It's me. _I_ messed up. I should have known they were tracking us.”  
“That's not your fault.”

“Yes it is. I'm supposed to have your back.”

“And you do! I'm sorry I questioned that. You've always had my back, I know that.”

Looking her in the eye, he affirmed, “I always will.”

She leaned into his shoulder and he put his arm around her. “We're stronger together. And going forward, we'll make decisions as partners. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“So are you okay with going back to Forlorn Hope?”

Boone let out a long breath. “No, but that doesn't mean I think we shouldn't. Tell me, though...aren't you scared?” He tried to keep his voice even, but heard it falter.

“Of the Legion? Of course I am! But this thing is bigger than just the two of us. If they win, this will never be over.”

“I really want it to be over.”

“I do, too.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he held her in a tight embrace and rested his cheek on top of her head. For that moment, sitting there in the dark with his arms around her, it felt like they were the only two people in the whole world.

 


	24. All Along the Watchtower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth, Boone, and Arcade return to Vegas, then head out to Camp Forlorn Hope where Arcade makes a new friend. They then continue on to Camp Golf where Beth and Boone have a conversation with Chief Hanlon.

A couple of days away from Vegas had given Beth a chance to cool off and she wasn't as upset with Mr. House as she had been when she left. She still wasn't okay with him knowing so much about her, but there was nothing to be done about that now. Besides, she wanted to keep an eye on him and his massive robot army. Having used the Platinum Chip to activate the securitrons at Fortification Hill, she was responsible for whatever he chose to do with them.

 

“I am pleased that you have decided to come back,” Mr. House said upon her arrival to the Penthouse. “There is much to do.”

“Let me be clear about one thing,” she said, putting a hand on her hip. “I'm still not okay with you invading my privacy. If I'm going to work with you, I need to be able to trust you.” She noticed the securitrons that had previously stood guard near the console were now absent. Even though she didn't pose much threat to Mr. House with or without them, she supposed it was a small gesture of goodwill.

“Of course, Ms. Evans.”

“And you can drop the formal address. I think you know me well enough to call me by my first name.”

“Very well. Elizabeth.”

She resisted the urge to groan. “Elizabeth” had always sounded too long and bulky to her. The only people she could remember calling her that had been Overseer Almodovar and her father when he had been really angry with her, which hadn't been often.

“So what exactly do you want me to do next, Mr. House?” While he might know her reasonably well, she still didn't know much about him, so she wasn't about to start calling him “Robert.”

“The Boomers at Nellis, perhaps you have heard of them?”

“The isolationists up north?” she said with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, no one gets within a mile of Nellis without being blown up. What about them?”

“I want you to make contact.”

She barked out a laugh. “What part of 'being blown up' was unclear? You want me to go on a suicide mission?”

“I have confidence in your resourcefulness, even if you don't. I'm sure you'll find a way. The Boomers possess a great deal of firepower, both pre-war and newly manufactured, no doubt. I want it in my arsenal or for them to at least be neutral.”

This was a ridiculous request, but also somewhat intriguing. Previously, she hadn't given much thought to the Boomers, as people called them. Now, she wondered who they were and why they chose to keep the outside world away so violently. “Do you have any more information about them?”

“They began occupying Nellis Air Force Base approximately fifty years ago. One of my securitrons observed their arrival...before it was blown up.”

“Blown up?” she repeated. “I'm seeing a pattern here.”

“From their clothing and Pip-Boys, they appeared to be former vault dwellers. That's all I know about them.”

Thoughtfully, she glanced out the window to see the bright lights of the Vegas Strip illuminating the otherwise darkened evening. She looked back to the screen. “Seems like it would be best to just let them be.”

“I might concur, if it were not for those howitzers of theirs. One can't allow indeterminate variables to rattle around in equations like that. They have to be accounted for, one way or another. Once the battle for the Dam begins between the Legion and the NCR, I need to know exactly how the Boomers will factor in.”

She supposed he had a point. Without knowing their motives, the Boomers could have an unpredictable effect when the inevitable Second Battle for Hoover Dam took place. “Okay. I'll see what I can do,” she said unenthusiastically.

“Very good.” At that, the screen flashed “Connection Lost” and stayed that way.

“Your manners leave something to be desired, you know that?” she said with annoyance to the screen and trudged back up the stairs to the elevator.

* * * * *

Once again, Boone was pacing around the suite at the Lucky 38, waiting for Beth to get back from a meeting with Mr. House. It was becoming a familiar pattern that he wasn't enjoying. Unlike last time, Arcade was also there, but he wasn't sure if that was better or worse. Things were still strained between them after their exchange at Foxtrot. As pissed off as Boone had been at the time, part of him couldn't blame Arcade for being confrontational. In the doctor's place, he probably would have reacted even more strongly.

He decided to go into the kitchen to see if there was any beer in the fridge and he found Arcade poking through the cupboards. Boone cleared his throat to announce his presence.

Without turning, the doctor said, “Looks like the kitchen has been well-stocked since the last time I was here.”

“House's robots must have done it,” Boone answered. The food had been pretty well depleted when he and Beth had left. He had also noticed that the beds had been made and there were fresh towels in the bathroom.

Arcade stood up with a pot in his hands and turned around. “I really wish I knew what she was thinking working with him, but I suppose I should ask her.”

Boone grunted in agreement. While she had told him about the general plan with House, it would be better if she explained it to Arcade herself. It would sound less insane than if he tried to.

“Any preference for dinner?” the doctor asked, changing the subject abruptly. “I was thinking chili.”

“Sounds good.”

“Chili it is.” He set the pot on the stove, then rummaged through the fridge, pulling out vegetables.

“I could help,” Boone offered, still standing in the doorway.

“Sure, if you want. Dice the onions for me?”

He nodded, walking over to the counter where there was already a chef's knife set on a cutting board. As he diced, Arcade took a package of what appeared to be some kind of chopped meat and added it to the pot. It made a satisfying sizzle as it hit the hot metal.

“Hey...I wanted to apologize for yesterday,” Arcade said, sprinkling salt into the pot.

“Oh?”

“I'm still not okay with the situation, with you two fighting the Legion, but I could have handled it better, so I'm sorry.”

“Don't worry about it.” He paused a moment, not knowing what else to say, then resumed working.

“Beth says you're a good guy and it's obvious you really care about her.”

“I do.” In fact, he cared more about her than he did about anyone else alive. Even with his aviators on, the onions were starting to burn his eyes. He blinked sharply and turned his face away as he chopped. After a couple of minutes, he asked, “This a small enough dice?”

Arcade looked over at the board. “Yeah, that's perfect. Thanks.” He took the board from him and raked the onions into the pot. “You're pretty good at that.”

“Hm.”

“Who taught you?”

“Grandmother.”

“That must be nice. I never knew any of my grandparents.” There was a tinge of sadness to his voice, then he cleared his throat. “You could do the jalapenos and carrots next.” He handed back the board. “By the way, you know not to let Beth anywhere near a stove, right?”

“Huh?”

“She's good at a lot of things, but if she tried to boil water, I swear she'd burn this whole building down. Don't let her anywhere near food unless it's to kill it or eat it.”

Now that Arcade mentioned it, any time she had been the one to cook, most of the meal usually ended up charred. He supposed growing up with a single father in a vault hadn't given her much chance to learn things like cooking. “Good to know.”

The two of them continued cooking and chopping in companionable silence until they heard the elevator ding. Beth poked her head into the kitchen.

“There you guys are. What's for dinner?” she asked brightly.

Her cheerful demeanor made Boone smile with relief. At least her meeting with House seemed to have gone better than the last time.

“Chili,” Arcade answered as he took the cutting board from Boone again and added more chopped vegetables to the pot.

“Fantastic.” Beth approached the fridge, which made Arcade look apprehensive for a moment, as though worried she was going to try to help, but all she did was retrieve a beer. She popped the cap off and stashed it in her pocket, then sat down at the table.

“What did Mr. House say?”

Taking a sip of her beer and setting it down, she answered, “He wants me to get in contact with the Boomers.”

“How the hell does he expect you to do that?” Boone asked, putting the knife down and turning around to face her. As far as he knew, no one had ever managed to successfully communicate with the Boomers. The NCR had certainly tried.

“That's an excellent question,” Arcade said.

Beth sighed. “I don't know, but I have a few days to think about it while we go to Forlorn Hope. I'll think of something.”

* * * * *

They managed to reach Camp Forlorn Hope by early afternoon. From what Arcade could see, the soldiers looked disheartened and the conditions of the camp were sparse. Beth insisted that things looked better now than they had when she and Craig had visited there previously. He wondered how much worse it had been before.

After stashing their packs in a small vacant tent, their next stop was at the medical station, since Beth said she wanted to check on things there. Inside was dark and musty. The smell of blood and antiseptic filled Arcade's nostrils. A tall man in a bloodied t-shirt and dark pants stood over one of the beds where a trooper was lying with his head and arm bandaged.

Beth announced their presence, “Alex?”

“Hey, welcome back,” the man greeted, setting his clipboard down on a nearby table and walking over to them. “I didn't think you would be back so soon.”

“We had some business in camp and thought we'd stop by to see how things were going here.”

“Well, you'll be happy to know that Private Jenkins was taken to Camp McCarran yesterday. In a couple of weeks, he should be fit for transport back home to Shady Sands.”

“That's good to hear,” she replied with a sad smile.

“Was that one of the men you helped last time?” Craig asked.

Beth nodded. “Yeah, the double-amputee. I'm glad he's on his way home, at least.” She fidgeted uncomfortably in silence for a moment before abruptly gesturing to Arcade. “Alex, this is my dear friend Dr. Arcade Gannon. Arcade, this is Dr. Richards.”

Alex's handsome, weathered face broadened into a smile. He reached out a hand and shook Arcade's in a firm grip. “Pleased to meet you.”

“You, too,” Arcade returned, staring a moment into the other doctor's clear blue eyes.

He pointed to the emblem on Arcade's lab coat. “I see you're with the Followers. They help a lot of people. I've always admired their work.”

Arcade glanced down at the symbol over his heart and fidgeted with the collar of his coat. “Yes, thank you. We try.”

Beth spoke up again, “If you need any help, Alex, I'm sure Arcade would be happy to assist.”

“Always good to have an extra pair of hands,” Dr. Richards said.

“So much for my vacation,” Arcade mumbled sarcastically, which made Beth glare at him with equal sarcasm.

“Anyway, Boone and I need to talk to some people,” she said. “We'll be back later.” With that, she and Craig left the tent, leaving Arcade alone with Dr. Richards.

Looking around, he could see that all but two of the beds were taken up by injured troopers.

“How can I help, Doctor?” Arcade asked.

“Please, call me Alex.” Picking up his clipboard, he flipped through the pages. “Private Taggart over there needs his bandages changed,” he said, pointing to the trooper in the far corner. “Sergeant Vega is due to come in soon to get his stitches out. Everyone else is stable for the time being.”

“Are you the only doctor here?” Arcade asked.

“Yup, it's just me,” Alex said. “I had an assistant physician until about six months ago. They reassigned her to the Dam. The NCR is anticipating the Legion attack and they want to be ready. All I have is a nurse who takes the night shift.”

“Seems like they need to focus more on the front-lines out here. This camp looks to be in dire need of resources.”

“I did my best to make that argument, but I don't make the final call. At the end of the day, all I can do is keep my head down, do my job the best I can, and hope I'm making a difference.”

For one man to be responsible for the medical care of this entire camp on the edge of a war zone was baffling to Arcade. He didn't always agree with everything those in charge of the Followers decided either, but they never made decisions that actively put lives in jeopardy. The Old Mormon Fort wasn't exactly state-of-the-art, but at least they were fully staffed with doctors and nurses. The NCR was far from perfect, but these were good people who deserved better. He felt an unexpected affinity with this weary, yet still idealistic doctor.

Just as he was about to help change Taggart's bandages, two soldiers burst into the tent carrying another whose legs looked badly injured. “We have wounded!” one of them shouted.

Alex immediately dropped what he was doing and rushed over. “What happened?”

“Legion attack. One of the fuckers tossed a grenade near an old truck and it exploded.”

Together, the two doctors treated two troopers for varying levels of burns and shrapnel wounds. Arcade had plenty of experience treating injuries, but mostly gunshots and stabbings. Wounds from explosives were on another level of trauma he wasn't used to. Overall, it was challenging and tiring work, far more so than his research at the Fort, but also far more rewarding. Here, at least, his awkward and abrupt bedside manner didn't matter as much. These patients were either unconscious or in too much pain to care what he was saying, much less how he said it.

After an intense few hours, they were able to stabilize the troopers. Only then were he and Alex able to take a much-needed respite. The two of them sat in the far corner of the medical tent where Arcade brewed some sweetened broc flower tea.

“So is this what every day is like for you?” Arcade asked, handing Alex a cup.

“Not every day, but a lot of days, yeah. I'd like to say you get used to it, but you don't. Patching up the ones you can just so they can go out and fight again isn't much easier to deal with than those you can't help.” He took a sip of his tea. “Anyway, I'm grateful you were here."

“You're welcome. It was nice to feel useful. I don't treat patients much these days.”

“Oh?” Alex said, seeming surprised. “Why is that?”

Arcade drank from his cup and set it down. “I'm mainly a researcher. Not a particularly good one.” He shrugged. His research had been stagnant for a while now and he had been reluctant to ask Julie to give him more clinic hours, although he was always on-call for emergencies. While he was proud to be one of the Followers, part of him had always felt like he was an outsider among them. He stayed on the periphery, never showing too much ambition or initiative that he drew attention to himself. Today, despite how grueling and difficult it was, he felt like he had actually made a difference.

“Maybe that's not what you should be doing. You're a talented doctor, Arcade,” he said sincerely. “Seeing you work today, I couldn't have done better myself. Don't sell yourself short.”

“I've been told my bedside manner is somewhat lacking.”

Alex raised an eyebrow and smirked. “I might have to test that out for myself.” At first, Arcade wasn't sure if he was flirting, then he put his hand on Arcade's arm and said, “You've certainly been good for my morale.”

“Um...that's good.” Arcade felt his cheeks grow warm.

“I'm sorry. Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No, no. Not at all.” He smiled back.

“Good.” Alex leaned in and looked into his eyes. "Can I kiss you?"

It was surprisingly bold and Arcade had not expected it. He glanced around to make sure no one was watching and when he saw they were well-hidden behind the privacy screen, he nodded. Alex tilted his head and leaned forward until their lips met. Arcade reminded himself to relax and enjoy the moment as their tongues caressed and ran along each others' lips. He felt Alex's hand on the back of his neck, pulling him closer. The other man's breath tasted sweet from the tea and he felt the brush of beard growth on the edge of his mouth.

In that moment, Arcade wanted nothing more than to pull the man's clothes off and see if the empty gurney could handle both their weight, but caught himself. He pulled back slowly, breaking the kiss and feeling a bit breathless.

“I've been thinking about doing that since the second I saw you,” Alex said with a sly smile. “Didn't know if I would get the chance.”

“Glad you did.”

“Nurse Cobb will be here in a few minutes for the night shift. Do you want to continue this in my tent? It's not far.”

He wanted to say yes, but hesitated. Although he had been with his share of men, with Alex, there was an extra complication: he was in the NCR army. Arcade knew he shouldn't let himself get too close. It was one thing to be friendly with him, maybe even to kiss him, but actually going to his bed? There was too much risk. Part of him also couldn't help but think about what his family would say.

“I should get to sleep,” Arcade said, standing up. “We're heading out in the morning.” He wasn't sure that was true, since he hadn't talked to Beth, but he needed to make an excuse.

Alex eyed him with enticement. “Say goodbye before you leave?” It was something Arcade would never have been direct enough to say to a man. He always flirted, dropped hints, and made jokes, but he had never been so forward. Here was a man who wasn't afraid to come right out and ask for what he wanted. It was insanely attractive.

“Um...I'll try. Beth likes to leave early.”

“I'm usually up early.”

“Okay.”

“But if I don't see you, I'll be sure to look for you the next time I'm in Vegas."

Before he could second-guess himself, he replied, “Please do.” He took a last look at Alex, wishing things were different, before he abruptly left the medical tent.

 

When he returned to the tent where they had stashed their packs, he found Beth and Craig sound asleep, cuddled together on one small cot, leaving the other for him. Quietly, he draped his lab coat over a chair, removed his shoes, and lay down.

Turning his head to look at the sleeping couple, he felt wistful. They looked so content, like they belonged together. How nice would it be to have someone like that, too? He closed his eyes and thought of the handsome, bold doctor, wishing for a love he knew he could never have. Lovers made poor confidants, he reminded himself.

* * * * *

The next morning, the three companions rose before the sun to get an early start. Beth filled Arcade in on what Tech Sergeant Reyes had said and how they'd been tasked with talking to Chief Hanlon at Camp Golf, since he was the one who had signed the false reports from the rangers stations.

Before they left, Arcade said he had to stop off at the the medical tent because he had forgotten something. As he walked away, Beth couldn't help but smirk.

“What?” Boone asked her.

“Nothing. He's just full of it,” she said.

“Full of what?”

“He didn't forget anything. He wants to see Doctor Richards.”

He looked at her skeptically. “And how do you know that?”

“Because I know Arcade. I saw how he got all flushed when Alex shook his hand. Plus, he didn't come back to the tent until well after we went to bed. Didn't you notice how he was glancing around expectantly during breakfast?”

“Not really. Is that why you made such a point to leave him alone with Richards yesterday? And why you didn't go back to fill him in on what Sergeant Reyes said?”

“I didn't want to bother them.”

“Do you always meddle in people's love lives like this?” He raised an eyebrow with a smirk.

“No. Not unless they need it. And trust me, Arcade needs it. Now shush, before he comes back.”

The three proceeded to Camp Golf. Arcade was uncharacteristically quiet during the trip, Beth observed, and he seemed rather pensive. She wondered what had happened between him and Alex. Based on how he was acting, she could tell that something had. He and Alex had so much in common, so they seemed natural together. Maybe she had meddled too much, but Arcade was her friend and she only wanted to see him happy.

When they reached Camp Golf, Arcade said something about harvesting plants by the lake, leaving Beth and Boone alone.

“I haven't been back here since I left the army,” Boone said as they walked. “This was the only resort no one wanted to get sent to.”

“Why is that? It seems nice enough,” she observed. The building ahead seemed to be in good condition, the grounds were surprisingly lush, and it had a nice view of Lake Las Vegas.

“It was on the front-lines. It's not as important anymore, though. They pulled most of the troops out after we took the Dam. Now they have more camps and ranger stations along the river.”

“You don't talk about the Battle for the Dam much.”

“Most of the important stuff you probably already know.” He shrugged. “Besides, I've taken out way more legionaries with you than I ever did in the Army. Too bad you never enlisted. I think a beret would look good on you.”

She scoffed. “Me?! Can you really see me in the army? Taking orders? Following rules? Saying 'yes, sir' and 'no, sir'?” She marched her feet and swung her arms stiffly, then saluted with a laugh.

He shook his head with a half grin. “No, I guess I can't.”

She supposed her time in the Brotherhood sort of counted, but she was never really one of them, so most of what she did with them hadn't really been orders. “Besides, I'm not even an NCR citizen.”

“That could change.” Not sure what angle he was driving at, she looked him questioningly. “Uh, I mean, after all you've done for the NCR, I'm sure they'd be happy to have you. If you wanted.”

Leaving his statement unanswered, she opted instead to return to the subject at hand. “So this Chief Hanlon, do you know him?”

“Not personally, but from all I've heard, he's a good man with a solid reputation. Highly decorated war hero. Commanded the Rangers during the Battle for the Dam. ”

“If all that's true, why would he be the one to manipulate the intelligence data? It doesn't make any sense.”

“I don't know, but if he is, that could do a lot of harm to the NCR's position. We need to find out what's going on.”

“You don't think he could have been compromised, do you?”

“You mean, as in working for the Legion?” He pursed his lips. “I can't believe that.”

“Let's hope there's another explanation. We should tread carefully, though, and not get too confrontational. Let him volunteer information.”

“Right.”

 

 

After asking around, they found Chief Hanlon on the second-floor balcony of the pre-war resort building that now served as the main headquarters of Camp Golf. With graying hair and a full beard, he was a bit older and more grizzled than Beth had expected.

“Afternoon,” he greeted, casually. “What can I do for you folks?”

“Good afternoon,” she greeted. “I'm Beth Evans and this is my partner, Craig Boone.”

The ranger's eyes brightened in realization. “Oh, you're the Courier that folks have been talkin' about. Been doing a lot of good work for the NCR, from what I hear. What can I do for you?”

“We're investigating some intel problems for Technical Sergeant Reyes at Camp Forlorn Hope.”

“What sorts of 'intel problems?” He picked up a cup from the table beside him and took a long sip.

“She told us there have been some...inconsistencies with certain reports from the Ranger stations.” Beth was being deliberately vague, waiting to see if he would give something away.

“Interesting that she would wrangle someone else into sorting out the problem. But I suppose you're in the right place. A lot of intel comes through here.”

“Have you noticed anything unusual lately? Anything that would be cause for concern?”

“Wouldn't say so. Coordinating intel can be messy sometimes. Things get mixed up, people get confused. That's not to say Reyes is wrong for being concerned, but it's easy for the sand to get in your eyes out here.” His tone was casual and dismissive, as though such things were routine and nothing to worry about.

Then Boone spoke up. “We know you're the one who's been manipulating the intelligence data,” he said bluntly.

Beth turned to her companion with wide-eyes and whispered to him through gritted teeth, “I thought we were going to be more diplomatic about this?”

“Hold on,” Hanlon said, standing up and setting his cup down firmly. The expression on his face was stern. “We should go someplace more private to discuss this.”

Following him inside, Beth shot her partner a scowl. She hadn't made it as far as she had by being so confrontational when trying to get information. Boone was wearing his damned aviators, so she couldn't see his eyes, but his lips were pinched and his brow was furrowed in a scowl.

Downstairs, they crammed into Hanlon's tiny office and he asked them to shut the door behind them for privacy. For someone who was supposed to be an NCR hero, so vital to the war effort, his office did not show it. There was hardly room for the desk and file cabinets, let alone three people.

Hanlon sat in his creaky chair and leaned back. “Sorting and manipulating intelligence is what I do. It's what rangers are supposed to do. So yes, I exaggerated and embellished a few things.”

Beth noticed that he wasn't exactly denying Boone's accusation. “There's a difference between that and outright inventing intelligence reports,” she replied.

“We've seen the logs and talked to the rangers,” Boone added, crossing his arms.

“You have, have you?” Looking at the pair seriously, he explained, “It's misdirection. That's what defeated the Legion at Hoover Dam.”

“Yeah, but that was misdirection of the enemy. How does spreading false intel among our own troops help anything?”

Beth was surprised Boone was taking so much of the lead on this, but she supposed military matters were more in his wheelhouse than hers.

“Back in the NCR, no one listens. No one cares. You pick up an NCR paper recently? The war with the Legion hardly ever makes the front page anymore. People forget about it. Did you know that we lose more than a thousand troopers every year out here? Sons, daughters, fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters.” He put his hand down on a stack of papers on his desk. “I compile the reports. I see their names, their pictures. They aren't just numbers.

“I'm trying to get someone to pay attention to what's happening out here,” he continued. “And if falsifying reports about Legion super mutants is what it takes, so be it.” Hanlon looked at Boone. “You were at the Battle for the Dam, weren't you, son? With First Recon.”

Boone nodded. “I was.”

“You've seen the cost of war and what it's taken to keep the Mojave. Can you honestly say that anyone is better off now than they were before the battle? Or have things only gotten worse? Five years later, we're still here and Caesar is just across that lake.” Hanlon jabbed his finger at the air toward the wall behind Beth. “He's spitting-distance away. Every one of the rangers is a volunteer, myself included. We all signed up willing to fight and lay our lives down for the NCR, for our home, but this isn't it.”

Beth looked at Boone with apprehension, not sure what he was going to say, but he said nothing. Instead, he took a half step back, as far as he could in the cramped office, and looked down at the floor.

Seeing Hanlon's face now, she realized that the man wasn't quite as old as he seemed. The weight of his job had added years onto him. This wasn't a traitor to his home. Maybe he was misguided, but in his heart, he was trying to do the right thing.

“Okay,” she said. “So someone pays attention. Then what? You demoralizing your own troops is not going to stop the war. Do you want them to think they're fighting for nothing? That it's hopeless? What is that going to do? They have no choice whether they fight or not. The Legion is coming and the NCR has no intention of leaving. The only thing we can do is give them their best chance to survive and hold the Dam.”

“The war can end. Oliver can't stand that rangers got credit for victory at Hoover. Whatever I recommend, he does the opposite. I say I wanted them on the ridge. He'll put them right on the western part of the dam itself. We don't have enough firepower to hold that spot. The troopers will fall back and the rangers will advance to cover Oliver's retreat. We lose the Dam, Oliver and the senate are ruined.”

“That's crazy!” Boone blurted out and Beth shot him another look. “Getting people back home to pay attention, I get that, but you’re talking about sabotaging the NCR’s defenses!”

“Being here is what's crazy. Getting out's the only sane thing to do. The people back home have to understand that.”

Beth reached her hand out and gently touched Boone's arm in an attempt to calm him. “I sympathize with your position,” she said to Hanlon. “I really do, but you can't keep doing what you've been doing. We can't allow it. The only question is what we should we do about this?”

“I suppose you could turn me in, but that might do a lot more harm than good.”

She had to agree. This man was a hero to so many. If word got out that he had been deliberately sowing chaos with false intelligence reports it would be demoralizing to the troops. If anyone suspected he had intended to engage in sabotage, that would be even worse. “What happens if we don't?”

“You think the Legion will stop at the Dam?” Boone asked, looking at the Chief. “I don't. They'll continue growing in strength and numbers until they're ready to take on the NCR proper.”

She leaned in and put a hand on the desk, looking into Hanlon's eyes. “Listen. You have probably gotten unconfirmed reports that Caesar is dead.”

Hanlon nodded. “I have.”

“Well, I can confirm it. I saw it with my own eyes.” She nodded to Boone who nodded back. “We both did.” The Ranger studied her face, as though assessing if she was telling the truth. “This has to end here in the Mojave while the Legion is still demoralized from their loss, but if they take the Dam, there may be no stopping them.”

His hands dropped to his hands that were folded in his lap and he sat there for a long moment. “You could be right. I suppose it's better to fight the Legion here and now than on our own borders.” Hanlon sighed heavily and dropped his shoulders in defeat, not looking at either of them in the face. “Thank you for talking some sense into me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to leave this office and pretend this conversation never happened.” With that, he stood up squeezed past Beth and Boone to exit his office, closing the door behind him.

“That was rough,” Beth said with a hard exhale.

“Yeah,” Boone agreed, taking off his aviators and running a hand down his face.

“Your diplomacy skills need work, by the way.”

“Sorry.” He did sound apologetic.

“I guess it worked out the best it could have and it wasn't as bad as we feared. He's not a Legion spy, at least.”

“At least there's that.”

“I just hope he keeps his word and doesn't continue with his plan.”

“I do, too.”

Beth sat on the edge of the desk and looked at her companion, feeling exhausted.

“Do you think he's right, though?” he asked. “That the NCR shouldn't be here?”

“You think I want the Legion to win?!” she exclaimed, standing up.

“No, of course not! I've seen you kill too many legionaries to believe that. I'm asking if you think the NCR and House's securitrons should defeat the Legion, then House should control the Dam and send the NCR home. Isn’t that what you've been planning since you activated those securitrons at the Fort?”

She was taken aback. “No, not exactly. I was hoping the NCR and House could co-exist, keep things the way they are, minus the Legion.” She looked at him, confused. “If you thought that was my plan, why did you stick with me?”

“Because I knew you were a good person who was trying to do the right thing, not just pick the winning side. In time, I thought you'd see you were wrong, that the NCR would be the way to go.” He let out a heavy sigh. “But I'm starting to think that it isn't.”

“What?! You're not serious.”

“I dunno. The NCR came out here because we needed resources. But look at the cost. Maybe it would be one thing if they could just defeat the Legion and hold the Dam, but they're trying to take over the whole region. It's not saving the NCR, it's bleeding it dry.” He shook his head.

“Boone....You would really be okay with backing House over the NCR?”

He leaned back against the file cabinets and rubbed his forehead. “At the Battle for the Dam, never once did I question whether we were doing the right thing. We won. That was all that mattered. But that didn't stop the Legion and it didn't stop me from losing everything that was important to me. I trust you. If you say there's another way, that this all can end for good, then I'm with you.”

“If the NCR does defeat the Legion and hold the Dam, they'll go after New Vegas next, won't they?”

He chewed his lip and nodded. “Probably.”

“And with House's robot army...”

“They probably won't succeed.”

“And even if they do, a lot of people are going to die.” She sat back down on the desk, feeling nauseated. “Did I make a mistake?”

“It's not just you. If this was a mistake, it's mine, too. I was there every step. Besides, even without Hanlon's misdirection and sabotage, the NCR may still not be able to defeat the Legion on their own.”

“The securitrons could definitely tip the odds in their favor. But then what? How do we end things peacefully after that?”

“I don't know.”

“Something else to figure out. I really don't want any conflict between House and the NCR. I know he doesn't either.” There was one burning question she still had. “Before you had a change of heart, what were you going to do if I didn't come around?”

“I didn't want to think about it.”

“I would have chosen you.” She reached out and took his hand. “I still would.”

“I know that, but I didn't want to make you choose.” He put his other hand to her cheek, leaned in and kissed her. When he pulled back, he looked into her eyes intently and it seemed like he was going to say something important, but then dropped his hand from her cheek and said, “We should go.”

“Yeah. Arcade’s probably wondering what's keeping us.” With that, Boone replaced his sunglasses and the two of them left Hanlon's office.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading. As always, any comments are appreciated.


	25. Will You Love Me Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth, Boone, and Arcade pay the Boomers a visit. Being in Nellis brings up a lot of old memories for Beth. Arcade finally gets a chance to talk to her about Mr. House. Boone contemplates his feelings for her.

The sun was bright as Beth emerged from the pre-war resort building with Boone at her side. She squinted against the harsh light and put on her sunglasses, which brought immediate relief. At least her eyes were much less sensitive than they used to be years ago. She could actually bear to be outside during the day without shades, even if it was still somewhat uncomfortable.

Boone had put his aviators back on even before they left Hanlon's office. She had learned from their time traveling together that he didn't wear them primarily for eye protection--he was hiding himself behind them, his thoughts, his feelings. To most, he might appear cold and unfeeling, but she knew better. Still waters run deep, as they say, and she had seen his emotions spill over more than once. She couldn't blame him if he didn't want other people to see that.

The pair walked through the grounds of Camp Golf, looking for Arcade. “I half expected him to be waiting impatiently out here for us,” she said. “Where the hell is he?”

“Maybe he's still looking for plants,” Boone said with a shrug.

“Maybe.” Sometimes Arcade did get caught up with gathering and there was no shortage of plants around the lake.

“Have you thought of a plan for contacting the Boomers?”

“Sort of. Half a plan, anyway. House said they were originally vault dwellers. If any of them still use Pip-Boys then maybe we can get a radio message to them. If theirs are anything like mine, it will notify them when a new signal is picked up.”

“So you'll radio them asking nicely not to blow you up when you come visit?” he said dryly.

“I said it was half a plan. First I need to find a way to send it.” She turned a dial on her Pip-Boy and scanned through the radio signals in the area. Since Camp Golf wasn't far from Nellis, it was likely any signals available here would also reach the Boomers at the air force base. Mr. New Vegas and Mojave Music radio were in range, but she doubted they would let her use their stations. “Hm...this might work. Time to call in a favor.”

She clicked the dial and a woman's voice came through the speaker: “ _Howdy. My name is Rose of Sharon Cassidy with the Happy Trails and Cassidy Caravan Company...._ ”

“But that signal isn't new,” Boone said. “You said it needed to be a new signal.”

Beth switched off the broadcast. “Maybe it can be modified so it seems new. Change the frequency. Again: half a plan.”

“I don't like this.”

“It's the best I've got right now that doesn't involve sneaking up on them in the middle of the night with a stealth boy.”

“Why isn't that a good plan?”

“Because they probably have some kind of proximity alarms or other people would have tried that already. Besides, it doesn't exactly foster trust, now does it?”

“I suppose not.”

“Where is Arcade?” She crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “I'd really like to get to the caravan office before dark.”

“You said that someone owes you a favor?”

“Yeah, a couple of years ago, I was a guard for Cassidy Caravans. Toward the end of my contract, the Crimson Caravan Company and the Van Graffs started staging attacks, trying to run Cass out of business or force her to sell.”

“What happened?”

“I helped her expose them to the NCR authorities. Still not sure what became of that, but when I got back from Utah, I connected her with the Happy Trails Caravan Company, who had also fallen on hard times due to attacks by the tribals trying to join the Legion. The two companies merged and managed to make a go of it together.” She then spotted Arcade trudging over a hill in the distance. “There he is. About time.”

When he saw them, he started moving faster and when he was within earshot, he shouted, “Sorry, sorry.”

“ _What the hell was he doing out there?_ ” Beth wondered to herself.

Arcade plodded along the last few feet, appearing short of breath and a little dirtier than he had been earlier.

“You okay?” she asked him.

“Yeah, just got caught up getting samples,” he said, dusting off his clothes. “We heading out?”

Beth adjusted the heavy bag on her shoulder. “Yeah, I think I have an idea for how we can convince the Boomers not to blow us up.”

“Oh, good. I was hoping,” he commented with mock cheer. “Care to fill me in?”

“I'll tell you on the way.” She waved her hand, motioning for her two companions to follow her.

*  *  *  *  *

The local office for Happy Trails and Cassidy Caravans was only a couple hours walk from Camp Golf. The place was modest, since this branch was still getting on its feet. There were a couple of pack brahmin in a pen to the side of the building and half a dozen mercenary guards were milling around, smoking and waiting for work.

Beth and Boone went inside the dusty office; Arcade elected to wait outside in the shade. The few times they had met, Cass had been “a bit much” for him, as he put it.

“Evans!” she said upon seeing Beth enter. The woman's face broke out in a broad grin as she stood. They hadn't seen each other in a few months, but Cass was much the same as Beth remembered: pretty, slim, and with a half-empty bottle of whiskey sitting in front of her.

“Rose of Sharon Cassidy!” Beth said, returning her smile. “How long has it been?”

“A while. And who is this?” Cass asked, eyeing Boone with sultry eyes.

“This is Craig Boone. Boone, this is Cass.”

Cass stepped toward him, tilted the cowboy hat on her head back to get a better look, and put her hand on his chest. “Hey there.” He leaned back, looking unsure of what to do.

“Down, girl. He's taken.” Beth smirked.

Dropping her hand, Cass shrugged as though it was all the same to her and turned back to Beth. “Looking for work? We've got a couple of caravans heading out east in the next few days, if you're interested.”

“No, actually, I need a favor.” Beth proceeded to lay out the basics of her plan and requested to use the radio.

Cass sat back down in her chair and plopped her dusty boots onto the desk, one over the other. “You know, if anyone else came to me with this, I'd say they were crazy.” She shook her head. “No, I take that back: I _know_ you're crazy. But I also know that you always have a way of making things happen.”

“So, we can use your radio?”

“Radio controls are in the storage area in the back, but fuck all if I know how they work. I make the recordings and press play. If you can figure out how to do something else, go ahead. Just make sure to set it back how you found it.”

“Will do. Thanks, Cass. I owe you.”

“Oh, fuck that. You don't owe me shit and you know it. Besides, if your plan does work, you'll need caravans to bring in supplies to the shut-ins.” She grinned and took a swig of her whiskey.

* * * * *

“ _Good day. This message is for the people of Nellis. My name is Beth Evans. No doubt you are aware of the growing tensions between the armies in the area and how they could possibly be a threat to your people. I would like to establish a peaceful relationship with you, as well as offer information and assistance. I will approach Nellis at noon tomorrow, along with my two companions, one of whom is a trained physician. If you do not wish to meet with us, fire a warning shot and we will never bother you again. This message will repeat._ ”

She clicked off her Pip-Boy. “What do you guys think?”

“Short and sweet,” Boone said.

“This still seems really dangerous,” Arcade commented.

“I know. But if this doesn't work and they start firing at us, we'll drop the whole thing and head back to Vegas.”

“Assuming we survive that long.”

“You're free to go at any time, Arcade. You know that.” She glanced back to Boone, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He was also free to leave, but she knew that he wouldn't. As long as she didn't help the Legion or hurt anyone in the NCR, which she would never do, he was with her. It was comforting and reassuring.

“Let's just get this over with,” Arcade said with a frustrated sigh.

 

 

On the approach to the air force base, there were signs warning people not to go further. As they continued on, streets lined with the remains of small wooden structures came into view, now all in ruins from bombs and fires. Beth raised Arcade's white lab coat high in the air, tied to the end of Boone's rifle as a makeshift flag. They walked with caution down the broken road toward the base, keeping their hands visible.

They stepped around a large crater in the center of the road that appeared to have been made by large artillery. Whatever had been there before had been obliterated, leaving only bare earth and rock. Despite what she hoped was an appearance of confidence, Beth was starting to have serious second-thoughts about this plan. Her heart pounded in her chest as she listened intently for any indication of gunfire or other weaponry, but none came. Other than the sound of their footsteps, it was eerily silent. Even the wind seemed to be avoiding this place.

When they reached the gate, Boone put his hand on her shoulder to pull her back and indicated a man with a rocket launcher peering down at them from a guard tower. “It's alright, Boone,” she whispered. “If they wanted to shoot us, they would have done it by now.”

A woman approached from inside the gate with a gun in her hand and she addressed them, “You the outsiders who sent the radio message?”

“Yes, we are.”

  
“I'm Raquel, Master-at-Arms for the Nellis Homeland. Mother Pearl, our eldest, would like to meet with you. Come with me.” A pair of guards unlatched the gate and opened it for them. Beth let out a long breath and the three companions followed the woman inside.

Their escort brought them directly to a building on the south side of Nellis where they were introduced to Mother Pearl, an older woman with short white hair and a weathered face. Like the other Boomers they had seen on their brief walk through the base, she wore a leather flight jacket over a blue vault suit and had a Pip-Boy on her arm.

“So you are the savages--or rather-- _outsiders_ who sent the radio message?” Pearl asked, her voice deep and serious.

“Yes, ma'am,” Beth said with more confidence than she actually felt.

The woman's face broadened into a warm smile. “Welcome, child. It has been a very long time since we have had contact with outsiders. When your message was brought to my attention, I knew that it was time. No one has ever approached us so...respectfully before.”

“That was my intention. Thank you for meeting with us.” Pearl's calm, friendly manner put her more at ease.

“Ah,” she said, pointing to Beth's wrist. “By your Pip-Boy there, can I conclude that you were also a vault dweller?”

“Yes, ma'am. Vault 101. I left a while ago, but from my experiences there, I understand some of the challenges your people must face, particularly in terms of medical care and supplies.” She wondered what sort of medical facility and personnel they had here. In Vault 101, her father, Jonas, and Beth herself had been the only people with any medical training. Without them, things had gone very badly, very fast.

“That is true. Our doctor does his best, but we are often short of medicine.”

“We have brought some medical supplies and can arrange for more to be delivered. And this is Doctor Arcade Gannon.” She reached up and put her hand on his shoulder. “He was educated at one of the finest medical institutions in the New California Republic.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you,” Arcade said as he reached out his hand toward Pearl, but she just looked at him, her hands remaining where they were.

“As it happens, you sent your message at the perfect time,” Pearl said. “We have several people injured from giant ants that have infested our generator room. Doctor Argyll may need some help treating the wounded. The medical station is just northwest of here.”

“I would be happy to help.” He dropped his hand with what Beth could see was slight annoyance.

“And this is my partner, Craig Boone,” Beth said, gesturing to him standing behind her. “He and I would be glad to take care of your ant problem, if you would like. I've certainly killed more than my share of giant ants.”

Pearl's eyes widened and she seemed genuinely surprised at the offer. “Your help would be most welcome. Loyal, our chief mechanic, can tell you more about the ants. He's usually in one of the hangars at the center of the base. I will radio to let them know to expect you. Be aware that it may take time for our people to get used to having sav—outsiders around Nellis.”

“Yes, ma'am. We understand.”

 

 

“That was rude,” Arcade commented in a hushed voice as they left Pearl's office. “Seems that these people don't shake hands with 'outsiders.'”

  
“Most vault dwellers don't shake hands, at all,” Beth answered. “The custom falls out of fashion when you go your whole life never meeting anyone new.”

“Oh. I suppose that makes sense.”

“Outsiders!” a woman's voice barked from behind them. They turned around to see Raquel following them out of Pearl's office.

“Yes?” Beth asked with caution.

“Mother Pearl says you can be trusted to walk around Nellis without an escort and our artillery spotters have orders not to fire on you.”

“Thank you. We appreciate that.”

“I warn you not to make the mistake of abusing these privileges,” she said sternly.

“We will not.”

“I'll be keeping an eye on you.” Giving them one last suspicious glare, she turned and walked away.

When she was out of earshot, Boone said, “I'm surprised they didn't confiscate our weapons.”

Beth shrugged. “Everyone here seems to be carrying,” she observed. “Maybe they figure an armed society is a polite society.”

Arcade proceeded on his own to the medical bay while Beth and Boone went to go find Loyal to see if they could help out with the ants.

Nellis was large and spread-out with long, wide roadways, likely for the planes that had once occupied the base. The hangars were immense, made from rusting corrugated metal and thick steel beams. Beth and Boone took their time walking around them, observing the occupants as much as their surroundings.

As they walked, wary and suspicious eyes watched them from a distance. She couldn't blame them. None of the Boomers had ever met a stranger before. They seemed to be focused more on Boone than on her, though. Perhaps her own Pip-Boy made her a little less foreign to them. Or maybe a burly soldier with a rifle on his back was naturally more intimidating.

Beth hadn't really known what to expect, but she was surprised by the Boomers. After fifty years outside, they still maintained their identity as vault-dwellers. Their flight jackets were even marked with “34” on the back in honor of their former home. They not only cut themselves off from the world, they actively and violently repelled it. It seemed that they had traded one kind of vault for another.

To someone else, it might have seemed odd, but Beth had a different perspective. After being underground for one's entire life, the big outside world was terrifying. She could attest to that. It had certainly been tempting for her to stay within the protected walls of Megaton, just outside Vault 101, all those years ago.

If she had been ready for a more settled, adult life, and hadn't needed to find her father to get answers from him, maybe she would have stayed with Billy and Maggie. It would have been so easy. They had certainly wanted her to stay. Her mouth drew into a sad smile. She hadn't thought about them in a long time. Maggie would nearly be a grown woman by now, not much younger than Beth had been when she left the vault.

“You okay?” Boone asked, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine,” she said, shaking her head. “It's just all these vaulties,”

“Bringing back memories?”

Beth nodded. She took a deep breath and reminded herself of the task at hand.

As they reached the door of one hangar, it opened and a young man with grease smudged on his face stepped through. His eyes widened at the sight of them. “Oh, geeze! You're the sav—uh, outsiders that Mother Pearl told us about,” he said, almost in awe. “I'm Jack.” A lock of hair fell over his eye and he pushed it back, rubbing more black grease from his hand into his blond hair.

“Nice to meet you, Jack,” Beth replied. “I'm Beth and this is my partner Boone. We were looking for Loyal.”

“Oh, yeah! He's in the other hanger. I'll take you to him.” Jack motioned for them to follow him. He had a nervous energy about him, possibly from the excitement of meeting strangers. At least for him, it was in the comfort of his own familiar surroundings. For Beth, the first time meeting a new person had been shortly after she had been thrust into the unfamiliar world.

With Jack taking the lead, Beth and Boone followed him inside. This hanger seemed to be primarily used as the mess hall. A few dozen Boomers were sitting down eating, some looking up as they entered, staring at them with cautious fascination.

“Loyal!” Jack called out.

An older, white-haired man raised his head from his meal, then stood to walk over to them. “Ah, the outsiders. Pearl said you were coming. I just hope she knows what she's doing.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you,” Beth said, ignoring his less than warm welcome. She introduced herself and Boone, then offered their assistance around Nellis.

“Pearl told you about our ant problem? It's been going on for a few days now.” He gave them a run-down of their situation, particularly the fact that the ants were liable to explode after having gotten into some of the gunpowder stores. Two people had been killed and three wounded. Beth had dealt with fire-breathing ants before, which were bad enough, but never explosive ones. Loyal assured them that the ants only seemed to explode if hit with flame or energy weapons. He also gave her a sonic emitter that he had been working on to kill the ants at their source.

Fortunately, the ants were easier to deal with than Beth and Boone thought they would be, especially considering how much damage they had already done. As Loyal said, conventional weapons didn't cause the ants to explode and the emitter did its job. Compared with the previous weeks of fighting the Legion, this task was downright leisurely.

The fire-spewing ants in Grayditch back in the Capital Wasteland had been _much_ more difficult, even with both Charon and Fawkes' help. Thinking of Doctor Lesko creating the ants through his reckless experiments with FEV still filled her with rage. It had felt personal. At the time, she hadn't fully realized why, but hearing that the ants had killed Bryan Wilks' father had set her off. It had only been a short time before that she'd lost her own father to the Enclave. Lesko had been a convenient and deserving target of her anger and grief.

Being here was bringing back so many memories of a life she had left a long time ago.

When they returned to Loyal, his demeanor towards them was much more pleasant. They spent the rest of the afternoon assisting him and Jack in repairing some broken solar panels. In addition to medical supplies, Beth made a note to add scrap metal to her list for Cass.

 

 

As a further gesture of goodwill, Beth paid a visit to the Boomers' museum to hear the story of their people. She told Boone he could pass on it, if he wanted, so he did due to lack of interest. He was sitting at a table in the mess hall, enjoying a moment of quiet solitude when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. “Uh...hey?” a young man's voice spoke behind him.

“Yeah?” Boone said, turning around to see a Jack looking at him expectantly. People rarely talked to Boone directly, especially with the Courier around. He preferred it that way. Over the last couple of months, he had been able to open up more to Beth, but with strangers, he still said as little as possible.

“Uh, I was just wondering...are you and that sav—uh, outsider lady...are you two _together_?”

By his tone, it was clear to Boone the kid meant more than if they were just traveling together. He peered up at the kid from behind his aviators with a raised eyebrow. “Why?”  
Jack scratched the back of his neck nervously and shuffled his feet before sitting down across from Boone. “Well, I've never been good at talking to girls and there's this one I've been watching with my binoculars and she's gotta be the prettiest girl I've ever seen, and sometimes I think she's watching me, too, and I wanted to wave at her, but she's an outsider and I don't know if--”

  
Boone sighed and put his hand up to stop the kid's rambling. “Get to the point,” he said as politely as he could.

“Would you talk to her for me?” He looked so hopeful, like a puppy begging for someone to throw a ball.

“Why me?”

“I figured you had to be better at talking to girls than me. I mean, your girl's real pretty. Not as pretty as mine—well, she's not _mine_ , but the one I--”

His hand went up again. “I'm not the best person to ask.” Beth would be much better at talking to a random stranger than he would.

Jack's shoulders slumped and the edges of his mouth turned downward. “Oh, okay. Sorry to bother you.”

Boone sighed heavily, frustrated with guilt at having disappointed the kid. “Fine. I'll talk to her.”

His face lit up brightly. “Really?! Thanks! When I see her, she's usually near a place with a sign that says 'Crimson Caravan.' She's got short red hair and she's the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“I'll see what I can do.”

If it were possible, Jack's smile broadened. “Thanks so much!” Then he paused and bit his lip. “Hey, um...there's one more thing I wanted to ask. What do you do to get a girl to like you?”

Surprised by the question, Boone thought for a minute, trying to remember back to when he had first met Carla. It seemed like a lifetime ago, yet fresh enough that he could still recall the feelings of nervous excitement, much like this kid was obviously feeling now. “Well, you....tell her she looks nice. Tell her you like her hair or her eyes or something. Give her a gift, something nice.”

“Nice? Like what?”

“Like flowers or something.” Boone shrugged.

“I think there are some flowers growing out on the edge of the base. Maybe she'd like those?”

“Sure.”

“Great! I'll pick her a big thing of flowers!” He stood and started to walk away, then turned back, much to Boone's dismay. “Hey, me and some of the guys have a weekly poker game, but one of our regulars is still laid up because of those ants. Maybe you'd like to fill in?”

The invitation was unexpected and he wasn't sure what to say. His first instinct was to refuse, since he didn't really like socializing with strangers, but Beth was trying to make nice with these people, so maybe he should consider it. “Uh, I'll think about it.”

“Great! I hope you can make it! And thanks again for talking to that girl for me.” When Jack walked away to go back to his duties, he seemed to have a renewed spring in his step.

Sitting there alone, Boone realized that he didn't feel that giddy, nervous excitement with Beth. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't even sure he _could_ feel giddy excitement again or that he would want to.

Beth came back and sat down next to him a moment later. “Looks like you made a friend.”

Boone grumbled. “I said I'd do a favor for him. I think I've been hanging around you too long.” He flashed her a grin to show her he wasn't being serious.

“I guess the helpful aura rubs off if you get too close.” She nudged him with her shoulder.

“Worth it.”

“What did he ask you to do?”

“Talk to someone for him. Apparently, he's been eyeing a girl who hangs around the Crimson Caravan.”

“An outsider girl? Interesting.” She waggled her eyebrows with a sly smirk. “Why did he ask you?”

  
“I dunno. He picked up that we were _together_ and thought I'd be good at talking to girls.”

She stifled a laugh.

“It's not _that_ funny,” he said with feigned defensiveness.

“It's a little funny. So he wants you to talk to her and bring her here?”

  
“I guess.”

“Hm, maybe we should talk to Pearl first and make sure she'd even be welcome. Wouldn't want to get anyone's hopes up.”

“That's probably a good idea.”

“Anyway, it was sweet for you to agree to help.”

Seeing her smiling so genuinely with her bright blue eyes looking up at him, he felt his heart beat faster and his breath catch for a moment. Maybe there was still some excitement left in him, after all.

 

 

That evening, Beth, Boone, and Arcade were invited to sit with Pearl and Loyal at dinner. Beth accepted, saying they were honored to be invited, but Boone just hoped that he wouldn't be asked to talk much.

“I wanted to thank the three of you again for all of your help,” Pearl said halfway through the meal. “You've done a lot to earn the trust of myself and the people of Nellis.”

“You are all very welcome, Mother Pearl,” Beth said.

“As you guessed in your message, we are aware of the gathering storms outside and have been for some time: the glittering lights in the distance, the robots and soldiers patrolling. We have been safe here for more than fifty years, but the outside world is changing and I knew it was only a matter of time before we had an army at our doorstep. I'm grateful that you arrived first. Loyal and I have discussed it and decided that it's time for you to hear about our people's fondest dream.” She nodded to him.

Loyal sat up straight, as if he had been preparing for this moment. “A long time ago, long before the war that killed almost everything in the world, a bomber crashed not far from here into Lake Mead. From what I've read, it is still mostly intact. Since I first came to Nellis as a young man and I learned about the Lady, I dreamed of raising her from the lake and making her fly again.”

Boone remembered reading about bombers in old books. Hearing that there was one intact deep in the lake he had passed by countless times was amazing. Something like that would be fascinating to see.

  
“How do you plan on raising it?” Beth asked.

“Inflatable ballasts,” Boone said automatically.

“What?” she asked with surprise, turning to look at him.

He glanced around the table at the people staring at him, feeling self-conscious, even though this was something he knew about. “That's how you raise sunken boats. If they're attached in the right places, it should work here, too.”

“That's exactly right!” Loyal exclaimed. “I've worked out a remote deployment system. After the ballasts are attached, you can use the remote detonator from shore and it should float to the surface. Then we'll send our robots to bring the Lady in pieces back here.”

Beth looked at Boone, then at Loyal, seemingly unsure about what they were being asked to do. “So you want _us_ to raise the bomber?”

“None of our people have left Nellis in over fifty years,” Pearl said. “And I'm not prepared to change that just yet. We would be most grateful if you could help us with this now.”

“I suppose we could.”

Boone could tell she was unsure about this, which made him wonder why she was agreeing to it. Arcade was staring at her sternly, but he didn't say anything.

“Wonderful!” Loyal said. “I'd better get to work. I will have everything ready for you first thing in the morning. Have a good night.” With that, he stood, took his half empty plate, nodded to Pearl, and walked toward the kitchen.

“You have made Loyal very happy and have brought us all closer to the dream we have held for many years,” Pearl said, beaming genuinely.

“Glad we could help,” Beth said, still sounding unsure.

The four of them continued with their meal. After a few minutes in silence, Boone whispered to Beth, “Should we ask her about Jack's girl?”

“Oh, right. We had something we wanted to talk to you about.” She leaned in towards Pearl and lowered her voice. “I thought you should know that Jack has his eye on a girl.”

“Oh, that's lovely! Who is she?” Pearl asked, glancing around.

“Actually, she's an outsider girl he's been watching from a distance,” Boone said. “A trader with the Crimson Caravan.”

“I see.” This was obviously less welcome news as the previous happy interest drained from her face. “Those traders have tried to make contact with us before. Greedy savages.”

“He asked Boone to talk to her,” Beth said, “but we thought it would be best if we spoke with you first to make sure it was alright if she came here. If she wants to, of course.”

“This does present a problem. Jack isn't permitted to leave Nellis and any outsider attempting to approach the gate would be fired upon. I doubt she would make it through.”

“We could bring her, if she agrees, and we can make sure she isn't a threat.”

Boone felt like he should say something to help convince her, but he wasn't sure what to add, so he said, “It would mean a lot to Jack.”

Pearl sat back in her chair and stayed silent for a few moments before giving a relenting nod. “Very well,” she said. “If Jack will take responsibility for her, she can enter Nellis.”

* * * * *

As the sun went down, Beth sat on the steps outside the small barracks Pearl had arranged for her, Boone, and Arcade to occupy while they were there. Sitting alone, she became lost in thought, looking out over the wheat and soy fields that were slowly dancing in the evening breeze. She could hear the sounds of children playing outside, squealing with charged joy, the way carefree children did; it was such a rare thing in this world and Beth felt a wistful pang in her heart.

What the Boomers had built here was impressive. No one had come to or left Nellis in fifty years, but in their isolation, they had managed to be self-sufficient through hard work, cooperation, and ingenuity. The population appeared to be robust, unlike her own vault's which had faced a decline for years before she and her father left, threatening its long-term sustainability. Here, there was a healthy mix of generations, including many young children, all appearing to be happy and healthy.

Pearl was a kind and charismatic leader who seemed to genuinely want the best for all her people. They clearly adored and respected her in kind. There was a rare sense of community, one that her own vault had lacked in so many ways, especially when it came to Overseer Almodovar. How many people had died unnecessarily because of his insane reaction to she and her father leaving the vault? She herself had nearly died. Things would have been very different with someone like Pearl in charge.

Her thoughts drifted to Amata Almodovar, her former close friend, and wondered if she was still acting as Overseer of Vault 101. Beth hadn't stuck around long after Amata was appointed by her father in a baffling case of nepotism. While she had practically begged Beth to come back and help when the vault was in chaos, in the end, it was clear to everyone that Beth didn't belong there anymore. That didn't make it sting any less when she was formally asked to leave.

Pearl, however, had greeted her and her friends with more warmth and kindness than she had received when returning to her own home. She even agreed to allow another outsider to come, knowing nothing about her except that she might make Jack happy.

The Boomers had something quite enviable. Beth just hoped that their presence here wouldn't throw this community into chaos. Despite their general xenophobic tendencies and affinity for large artillery, they seemed like good, decent people.

She heard footsteps behind her and she turned to see Arcade approaching.

“Where's Craig?” he asked.

“Some of the guys invited him to play poker with them, since one of their regulars is still injured in the medical station,” Beth answered. Boone had been reluctant to go, but she had talked him into it. He had hardly spent any time with anyone besides her and Arcade since she met him. Being around other people seemed like it would do him some good. “Isn't that nice? These people are certainly more welcoming than I thought they would be.”

“Yeah, great. Do you have a minute? I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Maybe we should talk inside.”

“Alright,” she said with slight suspicion and followed him inside the small barracks. She sat down on the lower part of the bunk bed she had previously claimed.

Arcade moved an old folding chair so it was facing her and sat down. He sat a second in silence, seemingly to gather his thoughts before saying, “Do you really think giving these people a plane capable of dropping bombs from the air is a good idea? We don't know where their loyalties will ultimately lie.”

He had been silent all through dinner and had been giving her severe looks. Now she knew why. When she first heard about the bomber, she had also been reluctant, but had decided that it probably wasn't as dangerous as it sounded. “That plane has been underwater for hundreds of years. It's probably rusted beyond recognition. Even if it isn't and we do manage to get it to the surface, do you really think they can make it fly?”

“What if they can?”

“We're not talking about nuclear weapons. Just a few regular bombs dropped on the Legion. And it's probably not going to work anyway.”

“If you don't think it will work, why are you doing it?”

“Because we need their support. These people already have _a lot_ of firepower, plane or no. Those weapons need to be pointed in the right direction. Once we earn their trust, I'm confident they'll see which way that is. At the very least, Mr. House wants them neutral.”

Arcade rubbed his forehead and looked at her pointedly. “That raises another question: what is the plan with Mr. House? Are you going to keep working for him?”

“For the time being, unless something changes. Why?”

“You of all people, though?” He shook his head with a furrowed brow.

“What do you mean 'me of all people'?”

“You've been around a while. You've seen how little he cares about the locals, how he manipulates and exploits people.”

“What do you mean?”

“He's walled-off his little kingdom so that the only people allowed in are people with money and those who serve him. His 'Three Families' are little more than raiders in fancy clothes, but as long as they follow House's rules, they can do pretty much whatever they want.”

“You really think that Vegas and Freeside would be better off without Mr. House?”

“Freeside, definitely. I mean, the NCR taking over would be an imperfect solution. Ideally, it should be independent. House has done nothing for Freeside. He's done nothing to stop the violence. He doesn't care that outside his walls there are people starving or dying from chem addictions.”

“Maybe not, but I do. And with the proper influence, I think he would be the best choice for both Vegas and Freeside.”

“You think he'll listen to you?” His eyebrow twitched upward.

  
“Yes, I do. He's out of touch with humanity, but who wouldn't be after being isolated for so long? That can be changed. I can help him. Believe it or not, there's a foundation of mutual respect between me and him.” She didn't want to get into all the private history that House was privy to, but if he had just wanted his own “Yes Man,” he would not have chosen her.

“So what does your NCR army veteran boyfriend have to say about all this?”

“ _Boyfriend?_ ” she thought. The word sounded so funny, almost childish after everything she and Boone had been through together. It felt like he was more than that to her. He was her friend, her partner. Although, she'd never been in a real relationship like this before. She wasn't sure how she should feel or what she should call him. Now was not the time to unpack all of that, though.

“He's with me,” she answered. “The NCR is bleeding itself dry out here. He's seen that as clearly as I have, if not more so. Besides, the most important thing to him is defeating the Legion. Without that, none of this matters.”

Arcade sighed and seemed to relax slightly. “I suppose I can agree with that, but how does House help with that part? He has enough securitrons to protect the Strip, but what else can he do?”

Beth had been hoping this wouldn't come up, but she supposed she couldn't avoid it forever. “There are more.”

“More...securitrons?” he asked cautiously, leaning in towards her. “How many more?”

She averted her eyes, not really wanting to answer that question. “A lot more.”

“How many?” The tension in his voice made her shoulders tighten.

“I don't know.” This wasn't strictly a lie, since she didn't know the exact number, only a general estimate from what she had seen. She figured that the word “army” wouldn't go over well, nor would the fact that she was the one who had activated them.

Arcade took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “So is that the reason you're working for him? To use his robots against the Legion?”

“No, that's not the only reason. I really think he can provide the best future for Vegas and Freeside. I know I've always supported you and the Followers, but I'm not an anarchist, Arcade. I never was. The Followers and the Kings are doing their best, but they can only do so much. Freeside is as close to independent as it can be and it's a slum, to put it mildly. It needs more governance, not less. It can't get much worse, if you ask me, but it can be a whole lot better with the right support and resources.”

He put his glasses back on. “Forgive me if I'm still skeptical.”

Beth tried to choose her words carefully. She decided that now was not the time to bring up the long-term plan for space colonization. “House wants to develop new technology, like he did before the war. He has a vision to benefit mankind. We could have new medical technology, food, clean water, security--”

“--A greater divide between the 'haves' and 'have nots.'”

She looked at him and let out a bewildered scoff and threw her hands up. “Greater than it is now with junkies stabbing people for a handful of caps to get a fix? Orphans in Freeside are eating rats in the street, for fuck's sake!”

Arcade leaned back in his chair and sighed. “The conditions in Freeside are pretty terrible. You're right. But it's all the people there have. I don't want to see House's bots storm in and kick them all out to expand Vegas.”

Realizing how agitated she was getting, she took a deep breath to calm herself. “I won't let that happen.” She met his eyes with hers to convey as much seriousness as she could. “Give me a chance to show you.”

“You really think you can influence Mr. House?”

“I can be very persuasive.”

“Still, you're taking a big risk. If things don't go according to plan, he's not going to step down quietly.”

“I know.”

He sat in silence staring at the floor for a long minute before asking, “So, Craig is really okay with all this?”

“Yes. I didn't even need to talk him into it. He came to the conclusion on his own.”

“How are things going between you two?”

Grateful he was steering the subject away from the serious topic of Mr. House, she relaxed her shoulders. “Good. Really good.”

“I'm glad. You deserve to be happy.” The words were pleasant, but she could hear a touch of sadness. Perhaps he was feeling a bit envious.

“So Doctor Richards is really nice, isn't he?”

“What?” he said defensively, as though she'd guessed what he was thinking. “What made you ask about him?”

Beth shook her head. He wasn't fooling anyone. “Come on, Arcade. I saw you two flirting. And you came to bed awfully late that night. I was surprised you came back at all.”  
“We kissed. That was it.”

“That was it?”

“Yes. And that's all it's going to be. He's NCR and I'm... _one of the Followers,_ ” he stammered, visibly agitated. “Besides, I'm not interested in a long-distance relationship. So I would appreciate if you dropped it.”

She was more puzzled than upset at his demeanor. Obviously she had touched on something sensitive. Maybe things hadn't gone as well with Alex as she'd thought. Looking at him with sympathetic eyes, she nodded. “Okay. I'll drop it.”

“Thank you.” He let out a short breath. “I'm sorry I'm being short with you. I think I'm just tired. I'm going to go to bed.”

“It's fine. I'll see you in the morning. Good night.”

“Good night.”

* * * * *

“The game is five card draw, nothing wild,” Blake said as he shuffled the well-worn deck of cards.

“What are we playing for?” Boone asked, taking a seat at the round metal table.

“Bullets,” Jack answered. “Can I offer you a beer?”

“You have beer?”

“Yeah, we brew it ourselves.” Jack opened a refrigerator, pulled out five bottles, and handed them out. The others opened theirs using the edge of the table, so Boone followed suit. He then stashed the cap in his pocket without thinking.

“You can throw that here in the scrap bucket,” Blake said, tossing his cap in the pail on the floor. He then began to deal the cards.

“Oh, sorry,” Boone said, taking the cap back out and tossing it in the bucket. “Force of habit. We...uh, ‘Outsiders’ use bottle caps for currency.”

“Weird,” said one of the other men--Bryan, Boone thought he'd said.

The beer tasted a little odd, like it had some strange herbs in it, but after he'd drank half the bottle, it started to taste pretty good. He hadn't hung out with a group like this since he left the army. Moving around with First Recon, there had been many nights spent like this, waiting for assignments or after a mission. He had forgotten how much fun sitting with a beer and a game of cards could be.

He had plenty of extra bullets that didn't fit his gun and lost a fair amount of them before they all called it a night, but he didn't much care.

 

 

It was well after dark when Boone stumbled into the small barracks where he, Beth, and Arcade were staying. He was unsure how many beers he'd had, but he was feeling tipsy. He hadn't been drinking nearly as much since he'd left Novac and he wasn't as used to it anymore.

He tried to enter the room quietly so as not to disturb his companions. Arcade was lying in the far corner bunk with his face to the wall. Beth was in the bunk nearer to the door, lying on her back with her eyes closed and a book open over her chest.

Boone sat down on the bunk next to hers to take his boots off. The lamp next to her bed lit her face with a warm glow. She looked so beautiful, so relaxed and unguarded in that moment. The surge of emotion he felt in his chest earlier came on stronger now.

“ _Do I love her?_ ” he asked himself. It was hard to say what it was he was feeling. It definitely wasn't what he had felt with Carla--he had fallen for her from the first moment. This was different. He and Beth had developed a trusted friendship that had become something more. It was relaxed and comfortable, like he'd known her much longer than he had.

After several minutes of him staring, she stirred and opened her eyes. “Oh, hey,” she said groggily, keeping her voice low. “I didn't mean to doze off. What time is it?”

“After midnight.”

Stifling a yawn, she he rubbed her eyes. “Did you have fun with the guys?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“I'm glad.” Someone else might have said something like, “I told you so,” but she didn't. She just smiled, closing her book and setting it down on the floor.

“I didn't mean to wake you. I should let you get back to sleep.” Standing up, he leaned over to kiss her on the forehead. She caught him by the arm and pulled him down so his mouth met hers, then kissed him gently. He had no objection and returned the kiss, enjoying her soft, warm lips against his. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close and his tongue traced the delicate skin of her upper lip. The old mattress squeaked as their weight shifted.

When he broke the kiss, she glanced over to where Arcade was sleeping and whispered, “We should stop.”

Boone felt a pull of desire. She felt so enticing and he just wanted more of her. All of her. He wanted to lay her down and explore every inch of her body, but he knew she was right. Even if Arcade hadn't been there, he was drunk and tired. “We'll pick this up another time.”

“Thank you,” Arcade mumbled from his cot.

Boone felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment, but Beth just let out a quiet laugh.

Without another word, he lay down on his bunk and stared up at the bed above him as she switched off the lamp. Since they started sleeping in the same bed, he found that he missed it when they didn't, even if she was only a few feet away. In the empty dark, he tried to make sense of the thoughts and emotions that were swirling around his mind. He wondered again how deep his feelings for her went, but arousal and alcohol were clouding his judgment, making everything too jumbled and he soon fell asleep.

* * * * *

When Beth woke up the next morning, she saw that Boone was still asleep on his cot, but that Arcade had already left. It seemed like the perfect opportunity for her and Boone to get some alone time. As silently as she could, she got up off her bunk and flicked the lock on the outside door so they would have some privacy.

He was lying on his back only partially covered by a blanket. It had been quite warm last night, so his shirt was off. With a sly grin, she bent down, putting one hand on his chest and the other on his cheek. He was usually a light sleeper, so it was odd that this didn't wake him. She leaned over to kiss him as a peaceful expression warmed his features. If he was dreaming, it seemed to be a good one.

As their lips pressed together, her hand on his chest migrated slowly downward to the waistband of his boxers, enjoying the feeling of his muscular form underneath her touch. He let out a small, contented moan, but his eyes stayed closed. She moved her lips from his mouth to his rough bearded cheek, then to his neck where her tongue swirled gentle circles on what she knew was a sensitive part of his skin.

In response, she felt his heartbeat quicken and he breathed, “Oh, _Carla_.”

Beth pulled away from him as quickly as if her skin had been burned. The sudden withdrawal of her touch made him open his eyes and then they widened in realization. His mouth moved, as though trying to form words, but nothing came out.

Not wanting to wait for him to say anything else, she grabbed her jeans from the chair next to her, pulled them on over her shorts and jammed her feet into her boots. Then she gathered her Pip-Boy, hat, and sunglasses before heading to the door. She could feel her cheeks burning. All she could think to do was get as far away from him as fast as possible.

“Beth, wait!” Boone pleaded from behind her, but she went out anyway, letting the door slam shut behind her.

“ _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ ” she kept thinking to herself as she trod over the rocky ground outside the barracks, her untied shoelaces whipping around her feet as she walked. She didn't have a destination in mind; she just needed to get away. How stupid could she be to think that he was dreaming about her? The notion made her throat clench and she put her sunglasses on to hide the tears welling up in her eyes. Some of the Boomers were out in this early hour and she couldn't bear for anyone to see her like this, as though they would know.

As she continued to speed walk away from the barracks, she kept cursing herself. What right did she have to feel jealous or hurt? He was another woman's husband. Even though Carla was dead, his love for her would never be. How stupid, how foolish she was to think that she would ever be first in his mind?

“Beth!” she heard him calling out to her, but she didn't turn or slow down. She didn't really want to talk to or look at him right now. It was all so humiliating. She wanted to disappear, to sink into the sand. Despite what she thought should have been clear signals not to, he ran to catch her and reached out to grab her hand, pulling her to stop walking. “Beth, please stop. I'm so sorry.”

Even holding his hand, it felt like there was a wall between them. “Don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong. It's fine.” She forced her voice to stay even, though she still couldn't look at him.

“It's not 'fine.' The last thing I want to do is hurt you.” His voice sounded desperate, which broke her heart even more.

“It's my fault. I shouldn't have woken you up like that. It won't happen again.” Pulling her hand away, she turned to walk away from him.

“It's not your fault. Please, Beth...”

“I need to be alone, okay?”

“Okay,” he said reluctantly. “Promise you won't leave Nellis without me.”

“I promise.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait in between chapters. I'm going to try to post more regularly in the future. 
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are very much appreciated.


	26. Turn the World Around the Other Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth and Boone deal with their feelings. The Lady is raised from the lake, Jack meets 'the most beautiful woman in the world,' and Pearl makes a decision.

The strap of her yellow sundress fell enticingly off of one shoulder and she tucked her wavy blonde hair behind her ear as she sat down on the bed. He quietly closed the door behind him before he moved toward her, drawn in by her deep brown eyes. Not wasting another moment, he caught her in a tight embrace and kissed her deeply.

She pulled back from the kiss and let out a light, playful giggle. He put a finger to her painted red lips, shushing her gently. Civilians weren't allowed in the barracks after dark, but he would gladly risk field punishment for the chance to spend even a few extra minutes with her.

“Sorry,” she whispered in his ear as she began to unbutton the shirt of his uniform. When the last button came undone, she pushed it off his shoulders then eased him back onto the bed. Her lips met his again, so soft and light. She kissed his cheek, then his neck in just the way she knew excited him. Her hand trailed down his bare chest to his belt.

“Oh, _Carla_ ,” he moaned, now not caring if anyone heard.

Then she pulled away from him.

Boone opened his eyes and the real world came flooding back to him. Standing next to the bed was a woman with short, dark hair, holding her arms crossed protectively. “ _Beth,_ ” he thought. She was biting her lip, staring at him with pain in her eyes. He sat up and tried to say something, but nothing came out. Before he could think of what to say, she grabbed her things and headed for the door.

“Beth, wait!” he called after her, but she left anyway.

He flopped back onto the mattress and let out a despairing groan as he fully comprehended what had just happened.

Then a terrible thought struck him: “ _What if she doesn't come back?_ ” He got up and dressed as quickly as he could, not bothering to find his beret or aviators. There wasn't time. Charging out the door, he scanned the area and saw her walking away toward the hangars. She was walking so fast, he had to run to catch up to her. When he called her name, she gave no indication that she heard him, even though he knew she must have. He reached out for her hand when he was close enough and urged her to a halt.

“Beth, please stop. I'm so sorry.” It was all he could think to say.

“Don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong. It's fine.” Her tone was even, but unconvincing.

“It's not 'fine.' The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”

“It's my fault. I shouldn't have woken you up like that. It won't happen again.” She ripped her hand away from his.

“It's not your fault. Please, Beth...”

“I need to be alone, okay?”

“Okay....Promise you won't leave Nellis without me.”

“I promise.”

Back in the barracks, she had left her pack and most of her things, including her .45, so he was certain she would come back. Eventually.

He sat on his bunk with his head in his hands. The heartbroken look on her face when he'd opened his eyes was burned into his memory. And he had been the one to make her feel that way. He hadn't meant for it to happen, of course, but coming out of a dream, it come out without him intending for it to.

In a twisted way, he felt like he had been unfaithful to both of them.

Boone wanted to believe that what he and Beth had was too strong to be broken by such a small thing, but their relationship was still new and this small thing represented something much, much bigger. It had gone unspoken until now. Carla would always be there in his heart, in his thoughts. He couldn't blame Beth if this was all too much for her.

He had spent so many months feelings almost nothing, like he was wasting away from the inside without even realizing it. Being with her made him feel like living again. She brought brightness to his life where before there had been only empty darkness.

If she left without him, he might never see her again. He'd have no way to know if she was safe. If she left and something happened to her--he couldn't even finish the thought. Even if she didn't want him as anything more than a bodyguard, he had to be there to protect her. He had brought her into this fight with the Legion and now she was a target. But he knew that if she really wanted to go on without him, there wasn't much he could do about it.

A hopeless feeling sunk into his chest. He couldn't lose her, too.

Boone wasn't sure how long he sat there, but it seemed like hours. Finally, the door to the barracks creaked open, making him raise his head to see Beth standing there. She still had her sunglasses on, but he could see her nose was pink, like she'd been crying. The sight was like a punch to his gut: he'd made her cry.

She spoke first. “Loyal gave me the ballasts to raise the plane,” she said flatly, dropping a large bag to the floor with a thunk. “Only take what you need for the day. We'll be back before dark.” Without waiting for his response, she put on her armored vest over her button-up shirt. She then picked up her gun belt and secured it around her waist, before pulling things out of her regular pack, littering her bunk with various unneeded items.

Boone didn't change his expression, but he felt a small amount of relief that she wasn't going to go alone and that she'd invited him to come along without argument. That was a good sign. Working quickly so as not to hold her up, he dumped out most of his pack into the empty footlocker at the end of his bunk and put back only the basic necessities: food, water, medkit, ammo.

Before he was packed, she was ready to go. “I'll be outside,” she said.

He hurried to finish and went outside where he found her at the base of the steps, leaning against the building. “Ready?” he asked, stepping down.

“Yes.” She lifted the bag with the ballasts onto her back.

“I can carry that,” he offered.

“It's fine.”

“...Please?” He wanted to do _something_. The least he could do was ease her physical burden.

Her shoulder dropped, letting the strap fall into her hand and she held it out to him. He took it and hoisted the heavy bag onto his shoulder. Seeing her averted gaze, he realized that she hadn't looked him directly in the face since right after the incident, which made him feel worse. She was so upset, she couldn't even stand to look at him.

Without another word, she turned and walked toward the gate with him in tow.

They left Nellis and walked back up the broken road through the ruined neighborhood. Usually, they walked side-by-side when it was just the two of them, but today she set a brisk pace that had him trailing along behind, as though trying to keep a cushion of space between them. He took the hint and kept his distance, close enough to hear her if she said something and to be there in case of danger, but far enough not to crowd her. When Arcade was traveling with them, she would at least occasionally glance back to make sure he was still there. This time she didn't. Even though he matched her speed, it was as though every step took her farther away from him.

For how far away she felt, the distance between them might as well have been miles.

They were about an hour outside Nellis when Boone heard what sounded like heavy footsteps nearby. Just over the hill to his left, there was a piece of red cloth flapping in the breeze. His heart caught in his throat and he readied his rifle, shouting to Beth, “Incoming!” Had she been closer, he could have been more subtle so as to not let the enemy know they'd been spotted. He cursed himself for getting so far behind her.

As she spun around to see what he saw, she drew her gun. When she spotted the enemy, she dove for cover behind a boulder.

At the same time, the legionaries decided to make themselves fully known with cries of “For Caesar!” and “Retribution!” Bullets whizzed through the air, narrowly missing Boone as he ran toward Beth's position, firing off rifle shots at the enemy as he went.

“Did you see how many?” she asked him in a hushed voice.

“At least four.”

She nodded. No matter what was going on between them, they were still a team. He never doubted that for a second.

From her dropped pack, she withdrew a grenade and signaled to him that she was going left, so he should go right. She took a deep breath and pulled the pin from the grenade, then tossed it around the corner of the rock. A surprised yell erupted from behind them. A second later, there was an explosion and more screams, this time of pain.

Boone took this opportunity to come out from his side, still keeping most of his body behind cover. He took aim and fired at one legionary who appeared to be momentarily stunned by the blast, hitting him square in the chest. The stunned look on his face intensified and he fell to his knees, clutching his chest before collapsing. Two more legionaries charged toward him and he managed to shoot one down before he reached him, but the other was faster and knocked his rifle to the side, then raised his machete. Boone twisted out of the way and he narrowly missed being hit. He could hear more gunshots from behind the boulder, where he assumed Beth was and could only hope that she was alright.

The legionary swung again, this time aiming at his torso. Acting more on instinct than strategy, Boone moved to block the blow with his rifle. The weapons collided and the two men pushed back and forth. Before he could react, Boone felt something sweep his leg out from under him, sending him to the ground, flat on his back, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

“I'm going to take your head, Profligate!” the legionary screamed at him as he brought his machete down hard. Boone still had both hands on his rifle and he used it to parry the blade, but it still caught him in his left arm. He lost his grip and the gun went skidding away from him. Before the legionary could reposition himself, Boone kicked him in the stomach, knocking him backward. He was about to scramble for his rifle when a gunshot sounded and the side of the legionary's head erupted in a spray of blood. He fell an instant later.

“Boone!” Beth cried and he heard her footsteps running over to him. She dropped down to kneel next to him as she holstered her weapon. “Are you okay? Shit, your arm.” Her voice was raspy and he could see her neck and cheek had angry red marks on them.

“You're hurt,” he said, reaching up to touch her neck lightly.

“I'll be fine,” she said, clearing her throat. “Come on, let's get you in the shade and look at that wound.” Before he could object, she grabbed his good arm and urged him to his feet. They rested in the shade of the rock where they had taken cover and she helped him remove his armored jacket. “Good thing you had this on or you might have lost the whole arm.”

He held her forearms lightly. “Is this your blood?” It was coating her hands and part of the front of her armor.

“No. Can you take your shirt off and put pressure on the wound while I wash off my hands?”

He did as she instructed. After cleaning her hands with purified water and alcohol, she examined his arm. The wound was deep, but hadn't quite reached the bone. Her calloused, yet surprisingly delicate fingers cleaned it as she had her hands. The alcohol burned in the already painful wound, but he didn't react, not wanting to make her feel any worse than she did already today.

“You would have made a good doctor,” he said, remembering her intended profession before leaving the vault.

She paused and seemed perplexed, as though it was a strange thing for him to say, before resuming her work. She still hadn't looked him in the eye. “I'm going to give you a stimpak. Do you want some med-x?”

“No.” The gash hurt, as did his back where he fell on the hard, rocky ground, but he needed to stay alert in case they were attacked again. She took out the stimpak and injected it in his arm. Within seconds, he felt the sting of muscle and skin starting to knit back together. She wrapped the wound with a clean cloth and helped him put his shirt back on.

“It should heal up reasonably quickly.”

“Thanks. How bad is your neck?” The red marks seemed darker than before. Without needing to ask, he knew very well what had happened: a legionary had tried to choke her. The thought of one of those bastards touching her, let alone hurting her like this, made his jaw clench. His next thought was that he shouldn't have let her out of his sight, but then reminded himself that she had been the one to save his ass this time, not the other way around.

“It's fine. Just a little sore. If it still hurts in an hour, I'll use a stimpak.”

“You should use one now.” He shouldn't need to point out that the bruises were only going to get worse.

Letting out a short grumble, she took out another stimpak and injected it into her neck with a wince. From her bag, she took out two bottles of purified water and handed one to him. She sat with her back against the boulder and drank hers slowly as she stared out into the baking desert.

They stayed there in silence for several minutes. Other times when they had walked or sat quietly together, it had been easy and comfortable, both of them perfectly content to go hours with only minor exchanges between them. Now, the silence hung heavy in the air. He would have given every last cap he had if she would just turn and look at him like she had yesterday.

Eventually, he couldn't stand it anymore. “About this morning...” he started. “I'm really sorry, Beth.”

“Please stop apologizing,” she said wearily.

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know. And you said that.”

“I don't know what else to say.” He'd never been good with words, but he desperately wanted to find some way to make this better. “I can't blame you for being angry.”

“I'm not angry.”

That was genuinely surprising. “You aren't? You won't even look at me.”

She stared down at the water bottle in her hands and fiddled with the cap. “I'm...embarrassed and sad. I feel like such an idiot. I mean, _of course_ you were dreaming about her.”

“You're not an idiot.”

“Carla will always be a part of you. I've known that from the beginning. And I don't want you to forget her or get over her. Please know that. My father was a widower, so I understand.” She tugged on the short strands of her brown hair. “I just...I've gotten the impression that I'm nothing like her.”

“You aren't.” In so many ways, the two could not have been more different.

She let out a ragged breath at the confirmation. “Okay, then,” she said quietly.

“That's a good thing,” he assured her, realizing how it must have sounded. “If you were like her...I'd worry that I was replacing her or that I was only with you because you reminded me of her. But you're...just _you_.”

“Just me.”

None of this was coming out right. “You're an amazing person. After everything you've been through, you'd have every right to be cold and selfish, but you're one of the kindest people I've ever met. And you're also so strong and capable.” She didn't say anything. “Did I ever tell you about the time I tried to teach Carla how to shoot?”

“No.”

“She fired one shot, screamed, and dropped the pistol on the ground. Then she swore she'd never touch a gun ever again. You? I think you could out shoot half of First Recon. You being different isn't a bad thing.” He ran a hand over his face. “Besides...after everything, I'm not the same man I was.” It was a hard thing to admit to himself, let alone say out loud. He wasn't sure Carla would know him at all anymore. In a way, she never really had, since he'd kept so much from her.

Finally, Beth looked him in the eye. “I got that impression, too.”

“Oh?”

She gave a timid shrug with the corner of her mouth turned upward. “I've never seen you smile like you did in that picture with her. Ranger Andy said you walked around with this stupid grin on your face. And the way you make little jokes sometimes, it's like a glimpse into how you used to be...before.”

“I guess.”

She looked back down at the water bottle in her hands. “So where does this leave us?”

“I don't know.” He felt like that was up to her.

“Did we move too fast? Were you ready to move on when we started this?”

“No to both.”

“No to both?”

Boone thought silently for a few minutes, feeling like he was pushing a boulder up a hill for all the effort it took to figure out how to tell her exactly what he was feeling. She patiently waited for him to speak. “Before you came to Novac, I was barely getting by. One day without Carla turned into the next...I had so much grief and anger, but I couldn't do anything with it. After a while, I don't know when, I just stopped feeling anything. I did my shift, then went back to my room and drank until I passed out, then got up and did it all again.”

“Oh, Boone....” she said, looking at him sympathetically.

“Yeah, I didn't want you to know about that part. I don't know why not. You know everything else.” He cleared his throat and took a sip of water. “I spent month after month like that, until one day it had been over a year and I hadn't come any closer to finding out who did it. I _failed_ her and I didn't know what to do. Then you came along and did what I couldn't do.”

She smiled at him sadly.

“It's not a question of being 'ready.' Moving on and being with someone else never crossed my mind in all that time. Not once. Then getting out of Novac, thinking about things other than what I'd lost, facing the things I'd done, finding purpose other than killing legionaries...it's different. And that's all because of you. If you hadn't asked me to come along with you, I'd have chased down every last legionary I could find until the end and I would have thought that was the best ending my life could come to. But now...with you...I want _more_. Even if I don't deserve it.” He closed his eyes, not really wanting to say what he was about to, but feeling like he needed to. “But if this is all too much for you, I'll try to understand.”

“I don't want it to be, but it is a lot.”

“I know you deserve better than me, than this. You should be with someone who doesn't have all this weighing him down. You deserve...to be someone's one and only. I'm sorry I can't give that to you.”

She reached out and grasped his hand. “Boone, like I've said before, I've never felt like this about someone before because never let anyone get this close. I didn't intend to with you, even, but you kind of snuck up on me, sniper.” She let out a short laugh.

“You snuck up on me, too.”

She sniffled. “I...for the longest time I didn't think I was good enough for someone to care about me like this. Like there was something wrong with me. That I wasn't worth sticking around for.”

“What?” he said in disbelief. “Why would you ever think that?”

Closing her eyes, she covered her face with her free hand. “Because if my own father could leave me, knowing he would never see me again...I didn't think anyone else would want me, either.” Her voice broke at the admission. It was clear she'd been carrying that around for a long time.

Not knowing what to say, he squeezed her hand. Beth seemed to love her father to such an extent that she blamed herself for him leaving. It broke his heart to hear that she thought she wasn't good enough. He couldn't help but think that her father must have been a real bastard to abandon her the way he did.

She opened her damp eyes and looked at him. “But you're the first person I've met that I feel like I could really and truly trust,” she said. “This morning was...unfortunate, but I don't want to lose you.”

It was a tremendous relief to hear her say that. “I don't want to lose you, either. I care about you so much. Being with you is so much better than being without you.” He wanted to be able to say more, to tell her he had deeper feelings, but he couldn't. It wasn't the right time, anyway.

“I care about you, too.”

He knew that, but it was still nice to hear. “And I meant it when I said I wasn't going anywhere without you.”

“Well, I'm not going anywhere without you, either.” She leaned against his chest and he put his arms around her.

They stayed silent for a while, both thinking and regaining their composure.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Better. You?”

“Yeah.”

After their talk, they sat quietly and ate some lunch, neither of them having eaten otherwise that day. Then they continued on to the lake where Beth dumped her pack and stripped down to her tank top and shorts. She stood on the boat launch ramp, facing the water with the rebreather in her hand.

“What's wrong?” Boone asked when he saw she wasn't moving.

“I'm not sure I can do this,” she said.

“You don't think raising the bomber is a good idea?”

“No, it isn't that. I'm not sure I can _physically_ do this.”  
“Can you swim?”

“Um...a little.” She pawed at the air in front of her with her hands.

“That's dog paddling.” He suppressed the urge to laugh.

“Okay, fine, smart guy. I know how to 'dog paddle.' I was almost twenty before I saw a body of water larger than a bathtub. And after, most of it was irradiated or full of nasty creatures, so it wasn't safe to swim in.”

He held out his hand. “Give me the rebreather. I'll go.”

“You can swim?”

He did laugh at that. “Yeah, I can swim. It's been a while, but I grew up on the water.”

She seemed relieved and handed him the rebreather. “Here,” she said, showing him the screen on her Pip-Boy. With her finger, she drew a line between the spot where they stood on the map and an arrow in the center of the lake. “Loyal thinks it's straight this way. Do you know how to attach the ballasts?”

“Yeah, I've done it before with boats. Should be simple enough.” He kicked off his shoes and stripped down to his boxers, folding his clothes neatly on his pack. He was reassured at how Beth seemed to be admiring his bare chest. What happened that morning hadn't killed all her attraction to him, so that was nice. Taking the beret off his head, he handed it to her. “Hold onto this for me?” It was a small gesture, but one he hoped would mean something.

She took it and nodded. “I'll keep it safe. Just be careful down there and watch out for mirelurks.”

“ _Mire_ lurks?”

“Oh, I meant lakelurks.”

“You know, I'd feel better if you waited up at the camp.” He nodded towards Bitter Springs.

“I'm not going to do that.”

“Didn't think so. Just keep an eye out and run up there at any sign of trouble, okay?”

“I will.” Putting her clothes back on, she secured her gun at her side.

Wading into the water from the ramp with the ballast bag on his back, he put the rebreather over his nose and mouth. When he was far enough in, he dove head-first into the water with a gentle splash. The cool, unirradiated water felt invigorating. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it until this moment. It was a bit awkward to swim with the bag, the weight of which pulled him down deeper, but he could manage it. He was grateful for the rebreather, since without it, it would have been difficult to surface for air.

The water was murky, but he could see far enough ahead to be reasonably certain that no lakelurks were around. While he didn't think another group of legionaries would attack so soon after the last one, he still felt a gnawing worry at leaving Beth alone. He reminded himself that she was used to being on her own and was one of the most capable people he knew. So why didn't that make him feel any better?

Swimming further, he finally spotted the gray metallic aircraft sitting on the bottom of the lake. When he got closer, he examined the body and remarkably, it did seem to be mostly intact. The wings appeared to be strong enough to support the structure, so he decided that was the best place to put the ballasts. After attaching them, he rolled up the empty bag and swam back to the spot where he'd left Beth.

* * * * *

Beth sat on the dock, leaning against the old boat shop in the shade. It was the same spot she and Boone had sat to talk after their fight against the Legion at Bitter Springs. That seemed so long ago now. So much had changed. Caesar was dead. House's securitron army was activated and she was fully working for him now. The plan for the Legion and the NCR was set. And she was in a relationship with the widowed ex-NCR sniper. Had someone told her all this was going to happen in the course of just a few months, she would have said they were crazy.

Idly, she wondered what her father would think of all this. Then she shook her head. She had given up trying to figure him out many years ago.

“ _This may not be the life you and Mom wanted for me, Dad, but I think it's pretty good,_ ” she thought. “ _It may not be safe, but it's better than some dying hole in the ground. At least I'm making my own choices._ ”

Thinking about her dad now, the feeling of abandonment seemed to sting a little less at the moment.

She watched the water and the surrounding land for any sign of movement, but saw none. The last few days had been particularly tiring and she was grateful for a quiet break. Being around the Boomers had already put her in a pensive mood. Things is morning between her and Boone had only intensified it. Thankfully, they had talked it out and she did feel better.

Although she still felt selfish for the lingering twinge of jealousy at having to share him with a ghost.

The sound of splashing water came from the shore as Boone emerged from the lake. Beth stood up and jogged over to him. “How'd it go? Was the plane actually there?” she asked.

He tossed the empty wet bag onto the ground and wiped his eyes, then shook the water from his hair. “Yeah, it was there. Mostly intact, just like Loyal said. I attached the ballasts under the wings.”

“Well, let's see if it works.” She pulled out the remote detonator and moved closer to the water. As she did, the device started to beep and she winced instinctively. It sounded too much like a frag mine. “Here goes nothing.” She pulled the trigger and a moment later, ripples and bubbles broke on the surface of the water in the middle of the lake. Then, the plane emerged, first with one wing, then the other. She let out a surprised laugh and grinned at him. “Hah! It worked!”

The toned muscles of his torso and arms glistened as sunlight reflected off the water droplets on his skin. “ _Damn, but he is a good looking man,_ ” she thought.

After she had stared for a few seconds too long, he furrowed his brow and asked, “What?”

“Uh, nothing. We should have brought a towel,” she covered, not sure why she was feeling self-conscious about staring at him.

“Don't worry about it. In this heat, I'll be dry in a couple minutes. Sure you don't want to take a dip?” he said jokingly.

She handed him his beret and he set it back on his head. “Yeah, I'm sure. We still need to pay a visit to the Crimson Caravan before we head back to Nellis.”

Boone groaned. “Ugh, I forgot about that.”

He got dressed, then they hoisted their packs again and headed toward the Crimson Caravan.

“Thanks for doing that back there,” she said. “I don't think I could have done it without you.”  
“Glad I could help out,” he replied.

Entering the large gate of the Crimson Caravan Company, the first thing that Beth noticed was how quiet and sparse it was compared to the last time she had been here with Cass. Maybe exposing Alice McLafferty to the NCR had done something, after all. By the looks of it, business did not seem to be going well.

“Did Jack tell you what this girl looks like?” Beth asked.

“All he said was that she has short red hair and is 'the most beautiful woman in the world.'” The corner of his mouth turned up skeptically.

“Well, that should be easy enough to find. How many of those can there be here?”

“No more than half a dozen, I'd guess.”

His little joke made her smile despite her somewhat subdued mood. It still made her sad to think that before Carla died, these quips of his were probably much more frequent.

Suddenly, she heard someone yell her name and she turned to see who it was. A handsome man with wavy brown hair was hurrying over to them with a big smile on his face.

“Ringo!” she greeted.

“It's great to see you!” He threw his arms around her in an unexpected hug.

Never having been someone who was comfortable with such things, her body stiffened and she tapped his back lightly with her fingers before pulling away. “Yeah...you, too.”

Boone took a step closer to her.

“Ringo, this is my partner, Craig Boone. Boone, this is Ringo. I helped him out of a jam with some Powder Gangers back in Goodsprings.”

Ringo grabbed Boone's free hand and shook it vigorously as he said, “Saved my ass, is more like it. I'd probably have been blown into a thousand pieces if it weren't for you.”

“Ah, don't worry about it. Those guys were pushovers,” she said with a dismissive shrug.

Reaching into the satchel at his side, he pulled out a jingling bag and held it out to her. “Here are the rest of the caps I promised you, in any case.”

She waved them away with her hand. “That's not necessary. I'm doing fine caps-wise for the moment.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, besides, it looks like the caravan business has seen better days.”

“You got that right.” He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “From what I've heard, McLafferty was doing some shady things with the competition. Like some people got killed. Someone even said she hired a guy to break into the Gun Runners' operation to steal their weapon designs.”  
“What happened to her?”

“On her way back to the NCR, some raiders attacked her caravan. Wiped them all out. Some people think it was the Gun Runners, but nobody could prove anything.”  
“Shit.” Beth couldn't say she was at all sad to hear this news. McLafferty was an evil bitch and if she had also been dumb enough to mess with the Gun Runners, she deserved what she got. The rest of her caravan did, however.

“Anyway, so what are you doing here? Hope you're not looking for work.” Ringo laughed.

“No, actually, we're looking for someone. A pretty girl with short red hair.”

“You'd probably have better luck on the Strip.”

“We're looking for a _specific_ person who hangs around here.”

Twisting his mouth in thought, he looked around. “I suppose there's Janet. I think she's over in the brahmin pen.”

“Thanks, Ringo.”

“Hey, and if you're ever up for a game of Caravan, let me know.”

“Will do.”

He waved and walked away.

“He's awfully friendly,” Boone said with irritation. “Little too...touchy-feely for my taste.” He wiped off the hand Ringo had enthusiastically shaken on his pants.

“For mine, too.” She gave him an affectionate pat on his chest. “Come on, let's go talk to Janet.”

Following Ringo's instructions, they found a woman with short red hair working in the brahmin pen. When Boone didn't approach her, Beth nudged him with her elbow. “Go on. Talk to her.”

“Why me?”

“Because you're the one who agreed to.”

“But you're better at talking to people. Besides, I did your thing earlier,” he pointed out.

“I suppose you have a point.” She almost made a joke about wanting to keep him away from “the most beautiful woman in the world,” but in light of recent events, she decided against it. They walked into the pen and Beth cleared her throat, making the woman look up from her sweeping. “Janet?”

“Yes. Can I help you?” she asked.

“Hi, my name is Beth Evans and this is my partner Craig Boone. We aren't sure you're the person we're looking for, but we were sent by one of the Boomers. He said he's been watching a beautiful woman around the Crimson Caravan with short red hair.”

Her eyes brightened in recognition. “Is he that handsome blond boy with the binoculars?”

“Yes, that's the one.”

“He really called me beautiful?” Janet asked.

“He really did.” Beth decided that saying “the most beautiful woman in the world” might oversell it. She wouldn't want to make Jack sound too desperate.  
“Aw, that's so sweet! I've noticed him, too. What's he like?”

“His name is Jack and he's very sweet. Maybe a little naive, but he has kind of a boyish charm. He's completely infatuated with you.”

“Wow, I didn't really expect this.” She leaned her broom against the fence. “I took this job because I wanted to get away from the farm back home and have some adventures, but things have been going pretty bad around here lately. I thought I'd see some of the world, but here I am tending to a bunch of brahmin again.” Glancing in the direction of Nellis, a dreamy look swept over her features. “Watching Jack has been just about the only halfway interesting thing in my life for a while now.” She looked back at Beth with hopeful eyes. “I don't suppose the Boomers would let me in to meet him?”

“Actually, yes. We cleared it with their leader, Mother Pearl, before we came here. As long as you're with us, you'll be safe to enter Nellis.”

“Oh, my god! Are you serious?”

“Yeah, we're heading back there in a bit, if you want to come. Unless you need more time to get ready?”

“Just let me get my pack.” Without another word, she dashed off towards the guard barracks. In less than five minutes, she was running back over to them with a pack slung over her shoulder. “I'm ready.”

The three of them reached the gates of Nellis just before sunset.

“We have a visitor for Jack,” Beth announced to the guard.

“I'll radio to let him know to expect you,” the guard said. “He should be in the hangars.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, I'm so nervous!” Janet said, walking along beside Beth toward the large metal buildings.

“Don't worry. Jack's probably twice as nervous as you are. Trust me.”

Boone gave a nod and grunt of agreement.

They found Jack waiting outside the hangars, pacing back and forth with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. He was muttering to himself, but not so quietly that Beth couldn't hear what he said: “Hello. I'm Jack. It's nice to meet you. These are for you.”

“Jack?” she said.

His head turned and his eyes widened in surprise. “Oh!” He hurried over to them and stuck the bouquet out to Janet. “Hello. I'm Jack. It's nice to meet you. These are for you.”

Beth gave Boone an amused grin at the awkwardness and he nodded.

“Hi. My name is Janet,” the young woman said with an excited tremble in her voice. “It's nice to meet you, too.” She took the flowers from him and smiled. “These are lovely, thank you.”

“We'll leave you two to get acquainted,” Beth said, taking Boone's arm and leading him away. She looked back to make sure they were out of earshot before saying, “Wasn't that sweet? He got her flowers!”

“Mm hmm,” he hummed.

“They're so cute together. And we did that. Hey, if this whole thing with Mr. House doesn't work out, we could start our own matchmaking service.” Seeing Jack and Janet together had perked up her mood considerably.

He let out a half laugh, half grunt at the suggestion.

“ _It must be nice to have something uncomplicated like Jack and Janet do_ ,” she thought. Then she realized that wasn't really true. Jack had been sheltered his entire life. Although he was a grown man, he still seemed to have the mentality of an adolescent. He had never met Janet, yet he was convinced that she was the love of his life. Those were some high expectations.

From her experience traveling with caravans, even for a short while, Janet was far more worldly than he was. Would she be happy living in Nellis after the initial excitement wore off? Add in that she was an “Outsider” to his people, and likely always would be, the two of them would have a lot to contend with.

No, Beth wasn't going to let herself make the mistake of envying other people. What she and Boone had was certainly complicated, but it was real and right in front of her.

She squeezed his arm. “Come on, let's go talk to Pearl.”

Back at Pearl's office, they found both her and Loyal waiting for them.

“Was she there? Did you raise the Lady?” Loyal asked expectantly.

“Yes. It was right where you said and the ballasts worked perfectly,” Beth answered.

He let out an excited laugh at the news. “I can hardly believe it.”

“Loyal, you had best get the bots ready to bring her back here,” Pearl said. He nodded and excused himself. Then she smiled warmly at Beth and Boone. “What you have done is a miracle. Loyal and I have dreamed of this day, but did not think we would see it in our lifetimes. You have my and my people's thanks. If there is anything we can do for you, please do not hesitate to ask.”

“Actually, there is,” Beth said. “May we sit?”

“Of course.” Pearl sat down in her chair and indicated for Beth and Boone to take the couch.

“Thank you. As you said last night, there are 'gathering storms' outside and that is why we're here. A battle is coming. We don't know when, but we do know it will determine the future of the Mojave. What do your people know about the NCR and the Legion?” She didn't want to waste Pearl's time telling her things she already knew.

Pearl leaned back in her chair. “Most of what we know we learned from the news on the radio. Overall, the Legion is usually spoken of in a bad light, but the stations seem to be controlled or at least on the side of the NCR. The Legion has no radio transmissions, from what we can tell.”

“They don't. The Legion rejects most forms of advanced technology.”

“They're savages and slavers,” Boone said abruptly. “They're evil. Plain and simple.”

“He's right. They are.”

“I see,” Pearl said. “We have had some encounters with the NCR. Once, they attempted to shut off our water supply from the lake. It took shelling their own pipelines to make them stop.”

“That was an unfortunate mistake that was obviously misguided, but had it been the Legion, I doubt they would have given up so easily. The NCR isn't perfect, but the Legion ruins people, families, tribes. They have no place for women except as slaves. Women like you and me?” Beth shook her head with a severe look on her face. “There is no place for us at all. They have no women leaders or warriors. Only slaves.”

“This truly is a dire warning you are giving us, child.”

“I cannot be dire enough in this matter, I assure you. Boone and I have seen their camps and the settlements they've taken over. They're brutal and merciless.” She glanced at Boone and he nodded. It seemed she was doing well and he didn't feel the need to add anything. She looked back to Pearl. “Your people are proud, strong, independent. Everyone we've met here is good and decent. The Legion would destroy all of that, if they win. If you don't listen to anything else I say, please believe that.”

Pearl folded her arms across her chest and studied Beth's face. “What would you have us do?”

“If your people are going to be involved in the upcoming battle, point your weapons at the Legion.”

“I take it you work for the NCR?” she said with cautious skepticism. “Is that who sent you here?”

Beth shook her head. “No, ma'am. My partner here _is_ an NCR citizen and former soldier, but I'm not. Our doctor isn't either. We came here as representatives of Mr. House.”

“I have heard of him. Where does he fit into all of this?”

“He has plans for Vegas and the surrounding area, but those plans depend on the Legion's defeat. If they take the Dam, they won't stop there. They'll take Vegas and the rest of the Mojave.”

“Including Nellis.”

“If they could, yes.”

“And what would Mr. House do with us?”

“Right now, he's mainly concerned that your howitzers are pointed in the right direction or that you will at least be neutral. After the battle, your people can stay isolated or not. It's up to you.” She was confident this was the case. The Boomers didn't have anything that House would want or need after the battle.

“You have done a great deal for my people, so I am inclined to believe you.” Pearl relaxed her arms and folded her hands in her lap. “Even if a fraction of what you say is true, the Legion poses a grave threat to our way of life. So we will do as you ask. You can count on our support if and when there is a battle.”

“Thank you, Mother Pearl.” Beth stood up and Boone did likewise. “My companions and I will be leaving in the morning, if that's alright. When you'd like and when you're ready, we can set up a trade connection with a caravan company that can be trusted.”

Pearl also stood. “You are welcome to stay the night, of course. As for trade, your offer is appreciated, but I don't believe we are ready to take that step quite yet. Perhaps in the future.”

“I understand.” They had already taken such a big leap in allowing Beth, her companions, and Janet in. She couldn't blame them for wanting to set limits after that. “Thank you so much for your hospitality.”

“You are welcome, child. Farewell.”

“Farewell.”


End file.
